#Katniss finds the happiness and urge to dance

[buggiebite]

The Boy - Sketches

Primarily post-war. Growing back together.

#with new technology seeping into the districts little by little #I’d canon things like radios to be common #Katniss finds the happiness and urge to dance #to teach her boy how to dance without stepping on her feet #making sure their doors are locked so Haymitch doesn’t burst them and catch them having fun as Katniss teaches Peeta to line dance #they slow dance too don’t worry #rebuilding the bakery #painting #peeta mellark fanart #Peeta Mellark #Katniss Everdeen #Katniss Everdeen fanart #buggiebite #the hunger games #everlark #fanart #district 12 #the hunger games fanart

[ilguna]

Metanoia - Prologue (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 2.5k

Warnings; swearing

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

As you take a seat on the pearly white couch, you turn on the hologram television that was provided with the house. Automatically, the tv starts on the station with Caesar Flickerman. This year he’s dyed his hair and eyebrows an orchid purple--basically a lavender with a huge tint of pink mixed in. 

You can’t imagine how fried his hair is. You dyed your hair once after you’d won your games, and you almost cried from how bad it was for months afterward. You counted down the days until all the dead hair would finally be off of your head. Then again, in the Capitol they have all these nice smelling products that really do wonders to your skin and hair.

That’s probably why everyone inside of the Capitol can afford to do that with every new fashion trend. You’ve seen rotations of looks happen in District Two, but they’re not nearly as intense as the ones inside of the Capitol. With neon colors, body modifications and literally dying your skin a baby pink color just to be seen as cool.

Of course, it’s not left to just the citizens of the Capitol, the victors of the hunger games are also allowed to get it too. Since you’re all so rich that you could be supporting a whole other family of ten, and still have a lot left over. But that’s on the assumption that the victor doesn’t have a family of their own to support, too.

You have no experience with that. This whole victor house is up to your interpretation. No other person has lived here, and no one will. The chances of you finding another person in the district that wouldn’t mind betraying the words on their wrists is impossible. You still can’t believe you’ve lived twenty-four years on this planet and haven’t come across your true love just yet.

It all seems like an elaborate prank, but lo and behold, people actually have them come true. Your parents certainly had been a pair back when they were alive. You’d never seen them fight once, and they always worked together as a team. They always knew when the other had a tough day. Almost like they could feel it themselves.

You asked them if they had felt that way before they had met each other, and they said that they do think they did. Your mom described it as being a gut-wrenching feeling when your dad had felt awful. Whether that be from sadness, being sick, a tough day or what, she always felt it.

But in that same way, for days that were good, it was like butterflies swarmed her stomach. She always had the urge to laugh, and there was a genuine smile on her face during the day. You’d think it would twitch like it was fake, but it wasn’t. She would dance around the house and bounce you on your hip even when you were too big for it anymore.

You can’t recall any times that you’ve felt any immense emotion without justifying it in some way. If you’re sad, it’s because something hasn't gone the way you had originally anticipated. If you’re happy, then you got your way after all, it isn’t rocket science. To be honest, you can pinpoint the last wave of grief and sadness that you felt, and it was after your victory tour.

The entire thing had felt off in the first place, even your family had told you that you weren’t acting like your usual self. And then they realized just how ridiculous they sounded because you literally just came back from the hunger games. It was their own mistake for thinking that you were a machine.

You’re human. You might have been specially trained since you hit the sprightly age of twelve to learn all the weapons, how to treat wounds, know which foods to eat, and more. And you might have been chosen to go inside of the games at the age of sixteen instead of the preferred seventeen because of how advanced you were.

But that in absolutely no way dismisses the fact that you would feel some sort of sympathy for the parents of all the kids you killed. At the beginning of the victory tour, it was just beginning to dawn on you that you’d be seeing all those tributes faces again.

Impressively, you can say that you wouldn’t get upset over something as small as that anymore. However, the times were different. You were sixteen then, and you’re twenty-five now. It’s quite the time to get over babyish things like that, especially since the victors that you’re surrounded with, didn’t get upset after they had won.

It was almost like you were the weakest one to come out of the games. Enobaria--your mentor--had remarked something along the lines of ‘they’re too emotional and mushy if we send them out before seventeen’ to the instructor. Enobaria told you that you had been a test run to see if others would be capable of handling it.

You had taken that as an insult, since on some proportion it was. She told you that you were weak emotionally. When you’re trained in the academy, you’re taught to think of the other tributes as nothing more than cattle. It didn’t really sit right with you then, and it doesn’t sit right with you now. It’s a tactic you can’t deny, though. It does make it so much easier.

Anyway, her saying that to your face was a whole other reason why that entire tour was a nightmare. You were trying to redefine yourself, and get over it like a hurdle. It took up to District Six or Seven before you had gotten some handle on it. 

Honestly, that whole year was a handful and you hope that you don’t have to experience that again.

“Let’s get Katniss Everdeen to her wedding in style!” Caesar shouts, which makes your eyes turn to his artificially tanned figure with glaring eyes. The crowd that he’s speaking to cheers ecstatically in agreeance.

Katniss Everdeen this, Katniss Everdeen that. They only think she’s special because she’s from District Twelve. The only volunteer that dirt ridden district has ever had. She was on a lucky streak with that damned bow and arrow. Cato and Clove should have won, had they been a little more careful, and not as cocky…

Clove could have killed Katniss, but instead she chose to taunt her. You wish that Clove had a little more common sense then, and gotten the entire thing over with. It would have been down to Cato, Clove, Thresh and Peeta--the deadweight that Katniss was holding onto.

You seriously can’t believe that the Capitol is eating up their romance like any of it is actually real. One look at Katniss’ face and you can tell it’s full of disgust. With all the wedding gowns that they’ve been showing on the holo lately, you’ve begun to purposely keep the holo off and find some other hobby to delve into. You know a fake smile when you see it.

Peeta seems to be the only genuine one, anyway. Anyone who isn’t a moron would see that, and therefore would know that Peeta means absolutely nothing to Katniss. As you said, he’s nothing but deadweight to her. He’s holding her back from whatever goal she’s trying to accomplish.

“Don’t go just yet!” Caesar has his signature smile plastered across his face, “This evening we have a very important event happening. That’s right, this year will be the seventy-fifth anniversary of the hunger games, and that means it’s time for our third Quarter Quell!”

This is what the mandatory viewing was about. You pull your feet off of the couch cushions and instead place both feet on the ground, leaning on your knees with your elbows.

You had completely forgotten that’s happening this year. Technically, you were alive for the last one too. You don’t remember any of it though, you were literally fresh out of the womb. All you do know, is the basics of the games, that twice as many tributes went in that year. 

Even worse, it was a tribute from twelve that had one--Haymitch Abernathy. The same Haymitch that you’re supposed to believe mentored Katniss and Peeta last games. What a joke, the man can’t stay sober for more than an hour. Hell, during their reaping, he fell off the damned stage. He’s not just a joke to you, but the entirety of Panem. No one takes him seriously.

However, you have to admit that it is impressive to some degree that he was able to pull himself together long enough to not only get one, but two winners out of those games. Of course, it’s nothing compared to the numbers that one and two have racked up. 

You wouldn’t call the academies an advantage, you’d call it strategy. It’s not your guys’ fault that they haven’t caught a clue and begun their own. Even then, though, they might as well be as useless as cattle. Half the tributes that go in from those outsider districts don’t know how to wield a weapon. Much less, survive.

The anthem to the Capitol cuts you out of your thoughts again, you watch as the logo suddenly cuts to President Coriolanus Snow. Not your most favorite person in the world, considering the history between you two. But you don’t mind him too much.

As Snow walks up to his microphone, a small boy dressed in a white suit trails behind him. There’s a wooden box in his hands, which he holds onto like his life depends on it. The anthem comes to it’s stop, and this is when he begins to speak. 

It’s a very special occasion, so he takes his time explaining the Dark Days, and the history of the Hunger Games and how it all came to be. With the rebellion that had happened seventy-five years ago. He goes on to say that it was decided that every twenty-five years, there would be a special games to freshen the memory of the citizens--district and Capitol alike--about the people who had been killed in the rebellion.

You watch with boredom as he drones on. The Dark Day’s speech is given at every reaping, and everyone has the speech memorized by the time they hit twelve. You can’t recall the amount of times you’ve cited it back to yourself when there’s been overwhelming silence.

“On the twenty-fifth anniversary as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it.” Snow says.

Imagine that, picking the tributes that would have to go inside of the games… it wouldn’t matter to you guys, one and two. The career districts--as you’re called--already pick their tributes. Trained in the academy until they’re good enough, and then they’re told to volunteer. 

You have the greatest percentage of winners, and your victors village is as full as it gets. A new house is built every year, with the exception of the chance of a past victor dying. Then, the new victor would inherit the old house. Which is consequently filled with all of the old people anyway. 

Doesn’t matter, it’ll be overrun by teenagers soon enough. It starts off as an old part of the neighborhood, but it gets younger as they begin to drop off like flies. You’d say you feel bad for them, except they all lived a fantastic life inside of those houses. Filthy rich, a big place to raise kids… the only problem is that it’s swept away from the family as soon as the victor dies.

However, the money is all handed down to the heirs anyway, so it’s not like they’re leaving empty-handed. They can take their belongings back to the house that their parents or grandparents had originated from, which is undoubtedly covered in dust from top to bottom and might be overrun with bugs. But they have all that money that they can fix the house with, and probably still have a ton left over. Enough to support generations to come.

Back to it, the twenty-fifth games wouldn’t have been that much of a shock to District One and District Two, maybe even four, considering that they’re a career from time to time. Though, the last time they produced a victor, she did end up going a bit crazy. The only good one they’ve had in a long while is Finnick Odair--and you shouldn’t get started on him, otherwise you’d never shut up. You absolutely despise the pretentious man.

Your district had likely ‘voted’ for the best candidates that had come out of the academy that year. And that’s just that.

“On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes.” Snow says.

Like you said, it’s the year Haymitch won. Which is so unfair, considering that there had been eight to twelve--again, four is an unreliable career district--careers and you mean to say that some dirt poor kid from twelve won it? There’s no way that those games hadn’t been altered in some way to favor them.

Or rather, Haymitch just got extremely lucky, the bastard.

“And now we honor our third Quarter Quell.” Snow announces, there’s a faint cheering of the crowd. The boy in white steps forward with the box, opening it up for Snow, which is when you’re able to see the rows of yellowed envelope paper. Wasting no time, Snow pulls out the one that has a neat ‘75’ written on the front. 

He unfolds the flap, and pulls out an equally yellowed square of paper. Setting the envelope aside, he reads, “On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that not even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.”

The roaring of the crowd in the background is deafening because of their excitement.

Your mouth falls open a little bit in awe as you tilt your head back, and a little to the left, thinking about how this will all work out. 

Surely, you guys can’t exactly be picked to win the games since you’re not fresh out of the academy. Which means that these games have to be up to grab, for the people who want to go back in. For those who can volunteer the fastest…

The prizes that you must get for it--double the cash? The title of being a legend inside of District Two? People would fall at your feet for being such an honor. Of not winning the games once, but twice.

Oh, you have to get a hand in that.

--

ASK TO BE ON THE TAG LIST;

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair metanoia #metanoia #metanoia prologue

[ibelonginthepast]

Heyyy!

💕 Your two top fave fictional characters (I have some guesses though it is XD)

🌡 Fave season

🏫 Are you in school, what grade

🏢 Your job (You don’t have to be specific) or dream job if you don’t work

🎂 How old are you

📖 Fave book

📝 Fave quote

🌐 Languages you can speak and/or are learning. Which are you fluent in

🎙 Can you sing

🎁 Best gift you ever received and why

👾 Do you believe in aliens

👻 Do you believe in ghosts

⛪ What is your religion

(only answer those you feel comfortable with sharing :))

Love you,

🖤

OH MY GOD THANK YOU FOR ASKING JANE, I AM SO SORRY AM REPLYING SO LATE BUT I REMEMBER, I WASNT FEELING WELL AND U SENT ME THIS AND I DID THEM MENTALLY AND IT IMPROVED MY MOOD SP MUCB THANK YOUUUU I MISS TALKING WITH U BRO

💕 ur guesses about this one will be obvioly right,, magnus bane haha no surprise. I think second would be Katniss everdeen? Or diana? Charlotte? Catarina? Lily? Klaus? Emilia from othello? Idk so manyyyyy

🌡monsoon? It was a season in india? It's basically rainy and we dance in the rain on teh terrace hoho,, wait I'll cry oof- but yeah I miss monsoon. Loved it. No monsoon here.

🏫yes am in school

🏢I am hopeless baby

🎂 idk I have this sudden urge of keeping my age to myself, is that okay? I dodged the class question too. Idk why, j generally share it. J have numerous times and couldn't probably find it by scrolling down a bit, but idk rn j feel like not telling people so I'll shush.

📖 okay very hard, but I'll say more happy than not by adam silvera rn cause the wounds are still fresh

📝oh bro idk this be hard. I cant think of any rn. I probably wont be able to decide on one so let's just let it be.

🌐 I am fluent in Hindi and English(I think? I hope). I also learned Japanese for some time, bt now all I remember is the script of hiragana and katagana and I can just read, without understanding the meaning lol. I also tried (emphasis on tried) learning punjabi and urdu too. I am learning french rn, its compulsory here so.... guess it would help me seduce so cant complain.

🎙I cant sing. No one deserves to listen to me sing.

🎁 oh bro I cant think of any good gifts I recieved lol

👾 yes I do. They obviously exist wtf, this shouldn't be even up for discussion. And yes I also think that theres some intelligent life out there too, probably way smarter than us. We are probably under their monitoring and they are making good fools of us all.

👻 maybe. I am not sure, but I'll incline towards saying no I think? But u never know.

⛪ I think am supposed to be a hindu. But I haven't yet decided my religious stuff, or whether I want one either or no. So..

OH MY GOD THESE WERE SO FUN TO ANSWER JANE THANK YOU SO MUCH ALABU REALLY THANKU FOR THIS ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ I hope u r talong care talk to me of u need, I'll be here to listen 💕

[saltpepperbeard]

Not Her ~An Everlark One-Shot~

A/N: Hello everyone! *hUNGER GAMES INTENSIFIES* am I right? I’m so happy for the Re-Read that’s taking place, because not only is it getting me furiously posting about THG again, but it brought back my quite dead writing motivation! I was reading chapter two, had a, “Okay but what must have this person been experiencing” kind of thought, followed by the instant urge to write it. So here we thankfully are lol!

I’m probably a tad rusty, but I really did want to write a different take on the Reaping Day. I’ve always wondered what things would be like from a certain someone’s point of view after all! So with that being said, I hope you all like it!

And with further adoooooooo...

Not Her

It’s the day everyone in this District dreads again.

The one where families are torn apart for a sick spectator sport. The one where children are torn crying from their mothers, knowing what horrible fate awaits them. The one where loved ones are officially lost to the Capitol.

Reaping Day.

I clench and unclench my jaw, silently filing in after all the other boys my age. The tension in the air is high, as usual. We’re not a District to valiantly offer volunteers, or boast our Tributes’ strengths. We’re a group of reluctant individuals, with many being fearful, silently praying that their name, or their loved one’s name, isn’t the one to be called.

I’m in the latter half of that group. My name being plucked from the large, glass bowl wouldn’t trigger any tears, from me or my family for that matter. There’s a slight sinking in my stomach as I imagine it, yes, but ultimately it wouldn’t hurt as much as others. My family would get on. The District would get on. And maybe it’d be a sick way to spare me from my current way of life.

I’m more concerned about my brother, concerned about Rye. I wouldn’t want to see him on that stage, awaiting pain, awaiting death. I wouldn’t want to see anyone I love subjected to that. Having to helplessly watch as someone close to me suffers has to be one of my worst fears.

A heavy breath rolls out of my mouth, my attention zoning out as the typical string of events unfolds. The mayor talks about the past of Panem, the history of the Games, and the reasons we should be thankful for them. It makes me sick to my stomach, the notion of being appreciative of murder, appreciative of suffering, appreciative of torture. So naturally, my attention goes elsewhere.

It doesn’t really come back until our District’s sole-surviving Victor, or our District’s Infamous Drunk rather, makes his grand entrance on stage. I let out a sigh as he leaves a path of chaos in his wake, but I cannot deny the slight ache in my chest. That insanity could be someone’s fate today. Or worse, far worse.

Another interesting character, Effie Trinket, attempts to hurry things along, continuing to try and make this some kind of grand spectacle. It’s ladies first as usual, and despite not really having anyone close to me per say, I find that I’m holding my breath.

When the name is uttered, I’m relieved for a split second, and then utterly devastated in the next.

“Primrose Everdeen.”

My throat locks up, with my entire body to follow. I almost feel a bit woozy, my head spinning at the image of a small, frail, blonde girl reluctantly emerging from the crowd.

I know her. Almost too well for never really formally meeting her. I can see her passing by our Bakery in the morning, completely carefree and casting light as she goes. I can see the way her gaze sparkles as she eyes the displays in the window, eagerly running up to get a better look. And I can see her turning around, excitedly pointing at the various cookies and cakes to the person who’s always with her...

“Prim!”

As unfortunate as it is to say, I should be familiar with that shrill, desperate cry. The sound of a person getting their family member torn away from them at the Reaping, a haunting, eerie noise that’s something of normalcy every year.

But it’s from her. She’s in pain. Her sister is going to the Arena. And I can’t protect them, can’t comfort her.

I can feel myself shaking, small beads of sweat forming atop my skin. I don’t even know her. I don’t know either of them. But at the same time, I feel like I do. I’ve seen them both for so long. My heart has followed the one for as long as I know, which means I’m naturally protective of the other as well.

It’s almost like I can feel her anguish, like my little sister is up there.

Mentally, I wrap my arms around her, holding her as tightly and warmly as I can manage. Even if I really could, I know there wouldn’t be enough love in the world to comfort her in this. But God, would I try. I’d want nothing more than to try and keep her lifted out of the darkness the Capitol tries so desperately to inflict upon us.

“Prim!”

Tears spring into my eyes, my heart clenching something terrible. I watch as she emerges from the crowd as well, darting after her sister. I wish I could be there alongside of her too, offering all the support and help I could possibly muster. But I can’t. I’m always doomed to watch from the sidelines, doomed to watch as things unfold.

And unfold they do.

“I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!”

Everything stops. My world completely stops. 

My heart stutters to a grinding halt. A noise of anguish poised on my tongue gets jammed in my throat. The tears I had been fighting against have no choice but to fall.

No. Not her.

It’s my nightmare. My absolute worst nightmare come to life. I always knew there was a very small possibility of this happening, a very grim chance of this unfurling before my very eyes. But nothing could have actually prepared me for it happening. No matter how many times I see them per night, the bad dreams are nothing compared to reality.

The light goes dark, and sounds go muffled. I can see some slight, desperate movement near the stage, and hear a scuffle of activity, but I can hardly pay attention. I can hardly focus on anything other than trying not to collapse right here and now, to collapse completely in on myself.

I don’t know her. I never got to know her. I didn’t get to tell her how beautiful I think she is, how her eyes remind me of a strong, captivating summer storm. I didn’t get to tell her how I want to protect her and her family for the rest of my days, to ensure they never have to go hungry ever again.

I never got to tell her how much I utterly adore her, how much I love her to the ends of the Earth.

And when she goes on stage, when she utters her name, the reminder makes a shaky, sobbing-like breath croak from my lungs.

Katniss Everdeen.

Not her. Not her. Not her.

Somewhere in the middle of my woes, I can faintly hear Effie Trinket trying to get our solemn District excited, trying to get our District to roar with thunderous applause.

But in true fashion, much to my utmost relief and yet utter dread, they don’t. Everyone remains ghostly silent, before kissing three fingers and raising them high into the sky. It’s a gesture of complete admiration, but also a way of saying goodbye.

I can’t bring myself to do it. Because no matter how much I utterly adore her, I cannot bring myself to say goodbye. Especially without giving the slightest “hello.”

I simply hang my head, fiercely wiping the tears away, clenching both my eyes and jaw. I wish I could reveal my gaze and be free from this, be in a completely different world where I’m waking up to light, waking up to her.

But I’m not. The awful world I’m in continues on.

I can hear the loud clicking of Effie’s heels as she walks from one side of the stage to the other. I wipe the last of my tears away, sighing harshly and attempting to get myself under some semblance of control. I just hope whoever gets reaped can work together with Katniss, and protect her with his life.

The odds must be somewhat in my favor, albeit in a messed up, twisted kind of way.

Because the name that’s called, the paper that’s raised into the air, sends me through a torrent of feeling.

My first emotion, by complete instinct, is shock, my head jolting upwards and my mouth hanging agape. I can feel everyone who’s in close proximity staring at me, their faces either wearing sorrow or some kind of weird relief. And after I’ve recovered from the initial blow, the initial realization that I’m going to the Hunger Games, the thoughts that follow are what give me the strength to walk towards the stage.

Katniss.

I’m going to be with Katniss in the arena.

Not getting to know her doesn’t seem as devastating anymore. Because now I’ll get to die knowing I protected her, knowing I gave absolutely everything to keep her alive. And that’s all I could possibly want. To make sure I gave my all in ensuring her safety.

Maybe she doesn’t need me. Maybe she can get by just fine on her own. I’ve heard about the way she shoots, heard her way of fighting is silent and elegant. It’d be just one other person who wouldn’t be affected by my presence or lack of thereof; my family certainly isn’t.

But that won’t stop me from trying. That won’t stop me from giving myself to her like I’ve tried to all these years. I am hers and no one else’s. My life is insignificant next to hers.

I finally mount the stage, and in seeing her so close, in getting to properly look at her, it locks my sole purpose in these Games completely into place.

I move to stand parallel to her. Before I do though, I give myself a brief opportunity to look at her. To really look at her. To look at her how I would every day if I was blessed enough to actually be with her.

Her beauty absolutely takes my breath away. It always has. Though her face is hard, completely taut with emotion, she’s gorgeous. Her hair looks softer than the dandelion puffs dotting the District. Her eyes look shinier than the sun dancing off the lake’s surface. Her lips look plumper than the strawberries growing in the forest.

I don’t think I could ever capture such beauty in one of my paintings, or ever truly put it into words. She’s utterly exquisite.

I don’t stare, being quick to tear my gaze away and look straight ahead, out into the crowd. Now really is not the time to dote on her anyway. I can’t afford to get anymore attached than I am now. Now is the time to start planning how I’m going to keep her alive.

As the mayor talks more about the Games, my mind is aflame with possibilities, with different scenarios. I think of how I can keep others away from her, how I can potentially side with her, how I can guard her from anyone who might come near...

My thoughts are cut short by Effie yet again, though this time she actually says something significant to me for once.

“Alright you two, shake hands!”

My head turns towards Katniss as hers turns towards mine, our eyes meeting and locking for the first time in...years. Her gaze is just as mesmerizing as it was the first time I held it, just as captivating. And just like last time, I silently tell her I’m going to protect her. I silently tell her that I will take a beating for her. I silently tell her that I love her.

And to prove it, to seal the deal, I put all the warmth I can manage into our handshake, squeezing her hand tenderly with the figurative promise of never letting go.

The odds may not be fully in my favor during the Games, but hopefully now the opposite can be said for her.

And once we turn to be beckoned into the building behind us, away from our District, my life is hers.

#Everlark #Everlark fanfiction #Peeta Mellark #Katniss Everdeen #thg #Peeta's POV #also i don't think this fits the toastedthg tag but hey the re-read iS INDEED WHAT SPARKED THIS lol #Because I was reading the reaping and was like #'Lord what must have Peeta felt when Katniss voluntee-......WAIT' #Love me a good opportunity for some angst and yearning lmao #MY AESTHETIC IF YOU ASK ME #A GOOD TIME #Also Peeta's POV is a Good Time in general #Mr. Angsty Eloquent Loving Boi #lmao just when you guys thought 'hmmm jodi's really out here posting a ton of thg' #LMAO BET HERE'S A FANFIC ON TOP OF MY META AND EDITS #WE OUT HERE

[savvylark]

Crush it

A College AU Everlark drabble for @katnissdoesnotfollowback based in this promptshe wanted Everlark-ed. @lynamloveseverlark and @xerxia31 were an extra pair of eyes and listening ear.

Part 2

My heart is pounding out of my chest. This isn't how it was supposed to go.

It wasn't supposed to feel like this. Buried in his strong arms as he pulls her closer. We watch the sun slowly lower and set the field ablaze in deep oranges and reds. He smells so good, a fresh and sweet smell mixed with an herbal and musky manly scent that bring to remind feelings of strength and safety.

I look up to gaze into his deep blue eyes. So unlike his brother's, uniquely dark with a pointillism of green on the center.

Here I am spouting painting techniques I've learned, even in my inner dialogue he's made such an impression.

Purely acting on an urge to express my feelings in this moment, I stretch my neck forward to capture his perfect plush lips.

Kisses aren't supposed to be this sweet yet awaken my whole body at the same time, but of course, this is what Peeta Mellark does to me. With his kindness, his laugh, the twinkle in his eyes, his very nature.

I'm taken under a tidal wave of emotions by this man with strong arms and ocean blue eyes. I'm in too deep and I don't think I want to resurface.

XXXXX

I take another sip of my beer and stare down my friend and crush, Rye Mellark. His icy blue eyes twinkle. He gives me a playful wink and continues ribbing my best friend Gale over some team rivalry.

I try not to blush but I can't stop thinking about the way Rye looks at me.

Like I'm the only girl in the room.

But he won't admit it to anyone.

We've been playing this game, and doing this dance for too long. I like him, he likes me. We  make each other laugh until our sides hurt.

For being a terrible flirt, regardless of all the hints I've given, Rye won't make a move.

I'm legitimately bad at flirting. I replay in my mind a few things Madge has taught me. Touch your hair, bite your lip, make eye contact, then look away, touch his shoulder, laugh when he's trying to be funny, whisper in his ear. If he sees that you're interested and less guarded it might help.

I smooth down my more feminine attire, take a deep breath and make a move.

“Hey stranger.” I greet Rye, and attempt to touch him playfully but I end up petting his forearm, pull my hand away and pretend that wasn't weird.

Make conversation, I tell myself.

I stumble over my words and end up saying something stupid about how pale he is and how tan he gets in the summer.

Gale looks at me with amusement at how terribly this is going.

“Are you okay?” Is there something in your hair? Here, I can help you.” Rye asks as he reaches for where I am continually rubbing my hand on my hair. Clearly not coming off very flirty.

I don't know what to think when I realize probably a third of the people here at Gale’s party are aware of my intentions. It's even more embarrassing that I'm failing.

I try biting my lip and give a sweet look but I'm already so embarrassed. I look away and take a sip of my beer just as Rye whispers in my ear “You look really pretty Katniss.”

I suck in a breath and inhale my drink. Sputtering and coughing, which draws everyone's concern.

Great, now I have everyone's attention.

Rye pats me on the back in an attempt to help, but I retreat to the bathroom.

Two hours into the evening no progress has been made in my mission of getting Rye to admit he likes me as much as I like him.

I found Rye chatting up a busty blonde girl that I've seen around campus. I'm not one for competition.

I stomp off into the kitchen for another drink.

I find Peeta, Rye’s younger who I vaguely remember is in a few of my freshman requirement classes. We officially met a few years earlier at one of Rye or Gale’s parties.

Peeta and I haven't really talked… Well ever. He was always the golden boy type and had plenty of attention from girls. While I'm a little darker and grittier and kind of a guy's girl.

Not the sweet doe-eyed kind of girl golden boys want.

But Rye on the other hand…

“Hey! How's your night going?” I asked Rye’s brother.

“Good. School year is over. I won a few rounds of beer pong. Are you happy to have the whole summer break ahead of you?” He asks.

I bob my head and take another swig of beer. It's not easier coming home, just working a lot of hours and playing Taxi to my almost 16 year old sister. But normal college kids are relieved so I play along.

I nod and play with my hair as I rattle off a few summer plans, hiking, camping, the usual shenanigans with Rye and Gale while trying to stay out of trouble, biting my lip to hold in my laugh.

“And your birthday is coming up isn't it?” he asks.

“How did you--” I ask, but he cuts me off.

“I decorate the cakes, you know?” He smirks.

We continue to talk in the kitchen long after we've refilled our drinks. Rye’s brother surprises me. He’s clever, funny and charming, I knew that. It's his self deprecating humor, his shy smiles and the way he says my name that makes me more at ease.

My cheeks hurt from laughing and I smack his arm playfully when he teases me.

I didn't realize how lost in conversation I've been until Rye pops in, “There you are! Oh, Silver-eyes with my silver-tongue brother I see.” He tries to say in a playful tone, but it comes off a little jealous.

I whisper in Peeta's ear “I think you're brother's jealous.”

I smile as our eyes meet, his deep blue ones widen, try to hold in a laugh, but we've been laughing so much that it's just under the surface.

Rye makes a competitive face at his brother, like a basketball player stealing the ball from a rival, and puts an almost possessive arm around me.

“We have a game to play, and I need my favorite partner.” Rye explains as he leads me away from his brother.

I smile back at Peeta and shrug my shoulders.

Peeta laughs and shakes his head back at me.

Talking to Peeta made Rye jealous.

That's when I formulate my plan, if I date Peeta, casually, so not to hurt anyone, I can get Rye to admit his crush on me and act on his feelings. I have the entire summer break, if things go awry we’ll be back at college in the fall and can easily avoid each other and any awkwardness.

Xxxx

I approach Peeta at the bakery, he's working up front and Rye's shift doesn't start until later. Not that I know my crush’s work schedule or anything, Rye just told me when he would be in.

I order my birthday cake and suggest that Peeta comes the party Gale is throwing for me on the beach Friday. It's May, so it's a little cold to go swimming, but perfect for a bonfire in the sand.

I bite my lip in thought. Then meet Peeta's blue eyes. “Um, maybe we could spend some time together?” I suggest, then look down and fiddle with my receipt.

When I look back up Peeta smirks. I think he's on to my plan, if anyone knows Rye is trying to hide his feelings for me it's his own brother. Peeta's not really one to be tied down to one particular girl so, I don't really feel like I would be toying with him if we keep things casual. I think he's up for a bit if fun this summer.

He gives me an amused look, “Sure.”

We swap numbers and make plans to check out the new Avengers movie next week.

“I don't think I've ever seen a superhero or action movie with a girl before!” Peeta tells me when I suggested Infinity War.

“Well, you're not hanging out with the right girls.” I answer back with tint of my head and smile.

“I guess not.” Peeta hold my gaze of a full 30 seconds, his eyes seem to dance. He shakes his head and laughs.

“See you tomorrow at the beach?” I confirm, he has to be there for this to start out the way I'm hoping.

“I'll be there alright.” he nods and flashes that perfect smile that makes most girls weak in the knees. Not me. I mean maybe a little but not really.

It's just a family trait, I tell myself.

#more drawn out than i planned #everlark #college au #part 1 #crush it #savvylark writes

[loveinpanem-blog]

Love in Dark Places

@mega-aulover gets a the credit for this title and some ideas that made there way here. Thank you @chele20035 for being my bata last minute! This is rated E for smut.

Happy Valentine’s Day Everlarkers! ❤ @savvylark

Something about you makes me feel like a dangerous woman.

This should feel wrong but it feels so right. His hot kisses have become more intense and more delicious. His lips make a trail down my neck, leaving a fire in their wake. He bites and sucks my pulse point and I lose my breath. I trail my hands up and down his broad chiseled chest and mural of beautiful  body art, tattooed in his skin to camouflage the painful childhood scar his mother left. I shove him down to the bed and make a point to kiss every single scar. We don’t talk about it, but we know they’re there, and where they came from.

He moans and draws a need deep within me for more. He finds the clasp from my bra and frees me. His talented fingers trace my spine. I sigh in his touch.

We don’t talk about how we once knew each other years ago. We pretend we were strangers, attracted to one another, who met and flirted at a bar thousands of miles from where we grew up.

As his luscious lips trail down my chest I can’t help but hum in anticipation. My heart is pounding wildly, and I’m nearly breathless as I watch this perfect man slowly unravel me.  Fulfilling all my teenage fantasies.

He lifts his gaze to meet mine, deep blue eyes meet silvery gray and I could almost pretend that he’s thinking the same thing, that he’s fantasized about this. He bites that sexy lower lip and can’t help but gawk at his near perfection.

I’ve never wanted anyone like I wanted Peeta, but he was off limits, which only fueled my growing and frustrating desire for him. Some of these feelings I chalked up to physical attraction and teenage hormones. The dangerous desire of forbidden love. Yet, I could never ever shake this innate connected feeling with this guy. Clearly, nothing in this room has anything to do with hormones, the chemistry and heat has been mind blowing.

How many times had I tried to pretend I didn’t get lost in these very deep blue pools of his eyes that speak depths of wonder, beauty, and pain?

How distracted I would get with those impossibly long eyelashes! They should get tangled up, but somehow never did.

How I would daydream about his plump lips wrapped around my bottom lip, wondering what he would taste like. My heart seems to do a double take in disbelief.

I reach up to capture his lips again just to confirm this is real and not a daydream I’ve imaged since high school. My lips are greedy as I pull and nip and suck his. Our tongues meet and dance, stroking and exploring. Like kindling, building the heat and fanning the fire inside me.

His hands crawl up my ribs and brush the sides of my breasts teasingly a few times. I twitch a little in anticipation. When his hands finally cup my breasts I make a low noise I didn’t know I was capable of. I try to remember to breathe as his lips travel down my neck again. I feel a smile from his face on my collarbone.

He’s remembering the time I tried to land that jump and fell off Madge Undersee’s bike, breaking my collarbone. The first real instances we got close without his step-sister around. He felt responsible because it was definitely his fault. You don’t dare Katniss Everdeen to do something, even if I was only an 11 year old and he was 13, I refused to back out of the challenge. He knew it too, and he used that slick tongue of his to convince me. That slick tongue is traveling down my shoulder.

I’m brought back to the present as he bite my shoulder, while his fingers brush and squeeze my nipples. I moan and wiggle my hips, shifting my thighs, attempt to find any kind of friction.

I was entirely awkward about anything remotely romantic or sexual for the longest time as an early teen. While other girls were fantasizing about prince charming I was prancing around with Gale in the woods, probably full of mud. My mother assured me that I was just a late bloomer. I had even wondered if I had any sexual preferences at all because I wasn’t attracted to anyone in that way.

Until one day, wrestling champ and golden boy Peeta Mellark and I were seated on the porch of the house his mom and the major call home drinking lemonade. Nothing out of the ordinary, but usually we have his step-sister Madge as an optimistic buffer.

I can’t even remember what lead to such a dark turn in our conversation but we accidentally started to talk about painful memories of our past. Instead of the conversation being awkward, it was amazingly cathartic. It felt like releasing the pressure of a painful festering injury.

Everyone saw this picture perfect boy, when the truly painful things he continued to struggle with had a way of digging in and eating away inside. He hid it all with a kind smile and quick humor.

There was a moment where we stood gaping at each other. Suddenly I saw him in entirely new light, but what truly scared me was, I saw something I identified with. I recognized his soul being just like mine, battered and bruised, but resilient and courageous.

That Emily Brontë quote runs through my mind once again, “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

I tried, but I’ll never forget how my heart leapt out of my chest upon the recognition, the awakening within me. I was captivated by this man.  

I started having dreams about him, innocent at first, just he and I against the world in various settings, hand in hand. I started to find myself more attracted to Peeta Mellark with each time I saw him. The dreams took on a more physical and eventually explicit nature.

My attention is drawn back as Peeta’s searing lips reach my nipples and I arch into him. His hands run down my back and start to play with the waist of my jeans. My fingers sink into his wavy blond hair. I love it longer and unruly like this.

It may have been my imagination, but it seemed from that day, the way I saw Peeta changed, he started to go through his own metamorphosis. He dropped out of wrestling, “One championship title was enough,” he said. He spent more time concentrated on artwork, dropped the debate team, in favor of drama club.

He was also able to stand up for what he wanted, despite what his mother pressured on him. Insead of his neatly styled Ivy League haircut he grew it a little longer on the top. His preppy attire shifted to reflect a more creative and darker Peeta. It fit him better and people took notice.

In my naive mind, I used to think that I was the catalyst for Peeta taking his life back and,not being a piece in his mom’s calculating chess game. I let go of that idea a long time ago.

My hands grip his back slip down the plains of his muscular back, I trail my hands around and down his abs, follow the happy trail and ever so quietly lessen his belt and lower his zipper ever so slightly. I have admired his infamous backside and appreciated how nicely he fills out a pair of jeans. I dip my hands past the band of his boxer briefs and cup each cheek while he lavishes the other breast with strokes of his tongue. I’m writhing under his ministrations.

He still has the same familiar scent of herbs and a specific peeta sent that brings to mind memories of happier times. Of innocence, but also the thrill of desire for him that courses through me. The familiarity alone is starting to drive me wild. I smooth my hands around his hips and down each let as I start to ease his pants down.

He’s momentarily startled, as I hear a sharp intake of breath. I wriggle and use my feet to push the pants down further. I tangle my legs with his and a line our hit centers and move my hips in slow figure eights. The guttural deep moan I’m rewarded with shoots spark to my very core.

Peeta looks up at me with an intense look I only recognize because I might be giving him the same one. I don’t understand how this can be the most intensely hot encounter to date and yet this connection feels like coming home all at once.

Peeta was so hot in high school, it was no secret. He dated the most gorgeous girls to walk those halls. His artistic endeavors didn’t put a damper on his popularity, he was still crowned homecoming king. His artwork was displayed all over the school. He seemed more mysterious Peeta and that much more alluring. The more artist dark Peeta challenged text book popularity, his depth and commitment to being true to himself started tidal wave of change in people all around him. Cliques didn’t matter, race and sexual orientation seemed to fade as a division. Peeta boldly accepted everyone and cause others to question their prejudice.

It meant a lot to me that he still chose to walk with me, a lowly sophomore and his little (step)sister’s sullen and surly friend to choir on his way to the drama department his entire senior year. I always tried to keep my heart from pounding out of my chest, but once he started our conversation I was always put at ease. I kept thinking he would get side tracked by a friend more worthy of his attention, but he was unwavering.

Still unwavering, and so much sexier in present day, Peeta is hovering over me.  His eyes, hazy with lust make my stomach flip, I tremble under his touch. His hand smooths over my hip, and get the strong urge to kiss him again.

Oh lordy, I might actually be addicted to his lips. I grab his head and pull it down to mind. Our lips smash together not as aggressively this time. Our tongues meet and dart and chase. His hand now cups the front of my pelvis and I moan into his mouth. Instinctively I reach for his length, I don’t know what I was expecting but it’s impressive, I gasp.

“Oooh Katniss!” I hear his low voice groan my name in my ear.

This is the first time either of us has acknowledged that we know each other beyond tonight. I think it’s been 6 years since either of us has set foot in our shitty hometown, and just about the same that we’ve seen one other. I wonder what this means for the evening, for our little game?

I run my hand up and down his manhood a few times teasingly. His ragged breath against my throat is doing things to me. His fingers wonder and tease until he rubbing me with more pressure and more purpose. I release him as he scoots his body further down to kiss my stomach and dip his tongue in my belly button, his kisses trail lower. I pant in anticipation as he continues to stroke with just the right amount of pressure on my core.

I think of all the times I admonished myself for these dirty thoughts. The pep talks I had in my head about how he was off limits, and how dangerous it was to fantasize about such things with Peeta of all people, most wanted man of Panem High. After Madge’s falling out with her former friend and brother’s ex, we made a pact, brothers and step-brothers are off limits, until further discussion.

There were a few times when we had Show Choir performances at the All School Assembly. I could have sworn I saw Peeta’s eyes locked with mine as I sang, in some sort of trance. Like he knew I was singing for him. Like he was aware that he gave me courage to do so, with every day that he existed. With every fiber of his being. I had to brushed it off the thoughts. Just my imagination playing tricks on me.

But the look he was giving me earlier, eyes boring into my very soul, recognizing it's… no, don’t go there, just enjoy this.

My underwear is flung across the room and he pins my legs down and draws them further apart as if a man on a mission. I blush at the vulnerable feelings I have, drape my arm over my eyes and sigh. His hands travel up my thighs and I desperately try not to growl.

I’m a girl on fire, a raging inferno is building inside me, only be quenched by a man that doesn’t know he possesses my heart. This tattooed tortured artist with mesmerizing eyes, and the kindest heart despite this cruel world.

His strong tongue and slender fingers reaching where I had been waiting years for him. Elicits in me things I didn’t know were possible. I’m dazed and lost in wave after wave of pleasure. I’m flying and its glorious. Fantasy and daydreams be damn. As the euphoric energy sends my head buzzing I am awakened some how. I feel like a new woman. I feel dangerous. Aggressive. Desired.

I shove Peeta down and straddle him with a wicked grin. His eyes meet mine. Predator and prey. I roll my hips and a deep moan reverberates through him. I bite my lip in attempt to hold in the smile and satisfaction I feel from his primal reaction. I gave him that reaction.

He sits up reaching for his wallet on the nights stand to retrieve a condom, I keep my body flush to his and trail kisses along his jawline. I hear the foil packet crinkle. The anticipation does weird flowery things to my heart. I should feel lucid with lust, instead I’m giddy, like I’m about to get away with tasting  forbidden fruit I’ve wanted for eons.

He takes the lead, he wraps me in his strong arms and whispers the most poetic filthy things about my body. I growl and murmer my appreciation as his hands travel and explore.

I gasp as he teases my cavern with the tip. He lifts my left leg and drapes my ankle above his shoulder.

“Please Peeta, I need you. Ruin me.” I repeat some of his desires he whispered in my ear.

We share a moan as he slides deep inside me. My slick walls welcome him and the safety and confidence I feel in him, in this moment of vulnerability are not lost on me. I open my eyes search his face. Awe and wonder, probably read in my face as well. His blue eyes seem to dance with emotions. I’m so swept up in this moment I don’t try to understand it. I just grip it for dear life with my very being.

Somehow, I don’t have words, but it feels as if being reunited, being pieces together. To recognize my own heart entwined with someone else’s in an other worldly sense.

We move as one colliding and giratung, a slow and sensual dance. We are one and I am whole.

I can’t look away, I’m locked in place with his gaze and I feel like I’m soaring high above this world. “Ooooh, Katnisss you feel incredible.” Peeta groans as his low baritone vibrates into my chest where his face is buried between my breasts.

I never pretended to understand love, but the depths of affection I’m pouring out as waves of pleasure wash over me forces me to recognize that this might be similar.

I should be scared. I should hide and escape the intensity, but I’m not strong enough. I can’t escape how deeply he’s rooted himself in me. Someone who became a very part of my being a long time ago.

The tension in the air and friction our bodies create hurl us forward, we dive and dip, faster and harder. He murmurs filthy things in my ear as he pulls me on top of him. His expression euphoric, jaw dropped, eyes nearly rolling back in his head and filled with emotion. I ride him until we’re tumbling into oblivion. I collapse on top of him as he mutters broken obscenities into my neck,  sputters and grunts that indicate his release. I continue to squeeze and milk him deep within me until I know he’s finally sated. I catch my breath and let out a light chuckle, relief and happiness revealed. Peeta wipes away the tears that escaped my eyes mid-orgasm.

I sigh. My hands lazily roam over his shoulders and the plains and dips of his chest. He holds my gaze and flashes a shy crooked smile, wraps me in his warm embrace and pulls me tight. He smooths a lock of hair out of my eyesight and studies my eyes and face for ages. I wish I could read his expression, or the look he’s giving me but I can’t place it. I also haven’t seen him in a very long time.

There’s so much I want to say to him but words elude me.

You’re the one I’m on fire for.

You left a mark on my heart and memory forever.  

I don’t believe in soulmates but this is making me rethink everything I thought I knew.

Don’t ever let you me go.

Peeta holds tighter to me as if I am something precious he could lose. My heart melts, I’m putty in his hands.

The fear of parting ways grows heavy on my heart. I don’t know how to fight it, but if we don’t talk it may strangle me from the inside.

“Do you–”

“Where do–” we speak at the same time then laugh nervously.

“Where do you call home Katniss? I know you’re here on a business trip like I am.”

#LiP 2018 #vday 2018 #fanfiction #submission

[javistg]

I wish you would write a fic where Everlark get trapped in a small space together...

Thanks for the prompt! I’m sorry it took a while to answer. I don’t know if this is what you had in mind. Still, I hope you enjoy.

Canon compliant-ish. Set in CF during the Victory Tour.

Peeta leaned against the closed door and crossed hisarms in front of his chest. “It’s no use,” he sighed in defeat, “it’s locked.”

“It’s ok,” Katniss said looking around the small broomcloset.

Two large shelving units, laden with cardboard boxesand cleaning products, took up most of the space, but the back wall was free ofany clutter.

 Guided by the soft glow of the emergency light bulbperched over the door, Katniss reached the back of the room. “I’m sure Effie isalready looking for us,” she said, “She’ll find us soon enough.”

Pressing her back against the wall, Katniss slid downto the floor. With a contented sigh, she stretched her legs in front of her.“Come here,” she instructed, patting the floor next to her.

Silently, Peeta did as she asked, carefullymaneuvering himself into the tight space between Katniss and the shelves.

Katniss closed her eyes and rested her temple onPeeta’s shoulder. She was tired. Tired of waking up at the crack of dawn tohave her prep-team poke and prod at her, tired of repeating the same oldspeeches Effie wrote, tired of being paraded in front of angry mobs whochallenged her with their questioning glares.

She hated that she didn’t have any answers for them,that she was letting them down. But she didn’t have a choice. She needed toprotect her family, to smile for the cameras, to pretend that everything wasalright.

Thanks to Cinna, she was the picture of health andwealth, a pretty face to be paraded through the districts. But she was dyinginside. She couldn’t deal with another party, another dinner, another dance…

Peeta’s soothing touch on her arm reminded her thatshe wasn’t alone.

“Thanks for earlier,” Katniss whispered, rememberinghow Peeta had gracefully interrupted the mayor’s aide just as he was about toask her for a spin around the dancefloor.

The thought of the man, who was old enough to be herfather and who had spent the entire day throwing lecherous looks at her, madeher shudder. “I don’t like people touching me,” she said.

Next to her, Peeta went as still as a rock.

An amused chortle poured from her lips. “I don’t meanyou!” she said, turning to look at him.

His ocean blue eyes regarded her intently. “Youdon’t?”

“Of course, I don’t,” she soothed, reaching out tobrush a blond wave away from his forehead. Her hand traveled down the side ofhis face and landed on his shoulder. “You make me feel safe,” she admitted.

Under her gentle touch, Peeta relaxed. “I do?” he asked,uncertainty lacing every syllable.

Katniss nodded. She had always been a private person.She usually didn’t enjoy sharing the personal details of her life with others,but Peeta’s willingness to overlook the problems of their past had had astrange effect on her. More and more, she found herself willing to confide inhim, desperate to deepen her connection to the kind, brave boy who gave her thestrength and hope she needed to carry on.

“Remember our first night in the cave?” she asked,tearing her eyes from him and focusing on the door in front of them.

“Not very well.” His hand resumed its comfortingpatterns on her skin. “My memories are a bit blurry and… shiny.”

Katniss nodded. Her chest tightened as she rememberedhow high Peeta’s fever had been when she found him by the stream.

“I remember holding you in my arms,” he confessed, hisvoice a soft whisper caressing her soul. “I remember thinking it felt right.”

His words sparked a tenderness within her. At thetime, she had thought Peeta’s confession had been nothing more than a ploy toget sponsors. But she knew better now, and she couldn’t begin to imagine whathe’d felt that night, holding the girl of his dreams in in his arms.

Fighting the urge to cry, Katniss said, “No one hadheld me in years. Not since my dad…”

“Katniss,” he breathed, “look at me.”

She did.

Her eyes found his. She’d never seen them so bright,so determined, so alive. The affection in them warmed her heart.

A soft smile turned her lips. “We were in a horribleplace, Peeta; surrounded by careers, and cameras, and mutts. But it was okbecause you were there. With me. Wherever I go, whatever I do, if you’re there,I’m safe.”

“I’ll always be there, Katniss,” he vowed, reachingout to cup her cheek. “Always.”

Closing her eyes, Katniss covered Peeta’s hand withher own. “Thank you,” she said before turning her face and pressing a kiss onPeeta’s palm.

The sound of a lock turning brought them out of theirreverie. A moment later, the door swung open, filling the small room withbright light.

Effie’s shrill voice pierced the air. “There you are!”

Katniss rolled her eyes. With a resigned huff, shefolded her legs and pushed herself up. After running her hands down her dress,she offered her hand to Peeta and pulled him to his feet.

Behind them, Effie started on one of her usualrants.  Her hot pink wig shook as shepointed a finger and scolded them “What do you think you’re doing? You’re theguests of honor, you’re supposed to be mingling with your hosts, not hiding inclosets! Don’t they teach you any manners in Twelve? Seriously, children, Idon’t understand why you keep doing this to me,” she finished with a loudwhine.

Placing his hand on the small of Katniss’s back, Peetasaid, “Sorry, Effie. We were looking for our coats, by the time we realized wewere in the wrong closet it was too late. We’ll be more careful next time.”

“Is the party over?” Katniss asked trying to sounddisappointed.

“Yes, I’m afraid it is,” Effie said with anexaggerated sigh. “Our driver is ready to take us back to the train.”

“Well, let’s get going then,” Peeta urged, “We don’twant to mess with your schedule.”

“Yeah,” Katniss piped in, “we don’t want to be late.”

With a satisfied smile, Effie instructed, “Follow me.And, don’t go into any other rooms, Haymitch already has your coats.” Turningon her heels, she led them out of the building.

Katniss and Peeta followed their escort walking sideby side. They had just exited the building when she slipped her hand in his andgave it a little tug.

Surprised, Peeta stopped walking.

Standing on the tips of her toes, Katniss wrapped herarms around Peeta’s neck and pulled him close.

Her lips brushed the shell of his ear as shewhispered, “This one’s just for you.”

Dropping her hands on his shoulders, she pressed asmall peck on his cheek.

Peeta’s hands reached for her hips, he pushed awayslightly. “What was that for?” he asked, eyes wide and bright under themoonlight.

She shrugged. “No one’s watching, it felt right.”

Slowly, Peeta nodded. His voice was low and husky whenhe asked, “It feels different sometimes, doesn’t it?”

It was Katniss’s turn to nod as she fought the blushcreeping up her cheeks.

Softly, Peeta pressed the pad of his thumb over herlips. “Not everything is an act,” he whispered, remembering the words she’dtold him after their Game.

Her eyes found his. He was looking at her with a senseof wonder which thrilled and terrified her. It was the type of thing whichusually sent her running for the hills, but she was tired of running, she justwanted to be with him.

She tightened her hold on his shoulders. “When we’realone, Peeta, nothing is an act,” she said, before letting go of him andturning to walk away.

Peeta stood, wide-eyed and flustered under DistrictFive’s pale moon, watching as Katniss walked towards the idling car.

He still didn’t understand her, still didn’t know herwell enough. But he was beginning to get a sense of who Katniss Everdeen reallywas, and every piece of the puzzle he discovered captivated him a little bitmore.

But, even if he wanted her, he knew Katniss wasindependent and strong. She didn’t really need him. So, as hard as it was, hehad convinced himself that he could be happy merely being her friend.

Lately, though, things had begun to change. Peetacouldn’t really explain what it was. But there was something in her eyes, inher smile, in the way she said his name when she woke up in the middle of thenight.

Peeta smiled. He didn’t want to jump to anyconclusions, but he was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, KatnissEverdeen was a little captivated by him too.

#javis answers #bits and pieces #things I write #trapped in a broomcloset #answered prompt 2017

[ellanainthetardis]

I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please do let me know!

[FF] or [AO3]

Chapter 23 : Short Of A Fireplace

“What are you doing?”

Haymitch froze, the curse still on his lips, and rubbed the back of his nape. He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain that one. Half her beauty products had fallen off her dressing table and to the floor while he was struggling with the plug.

“Go back to sleep, it ain’t ready yet.” he grumbled.

They had gone to bed late the previous night. The stylist had stayed for dinner and Haymitch had to admit the man wasn’t bad company. Full of himself, yeah, but he didn’t look down on them and that was a nice change. Haymitch had always appreciated people who could use their brains and Harwyn clearly was one of those. He was no match for Cinna but it was the best they could have gotten.

After he had left though, Effie had insisted on gathering everyone in the living-room. She had told the children the next day would be free and that they should use it to relax. Peeta had protested a little but she had convinced him easily enough – her or Katniss’ pleading look. Unfortunately, it had also meant she wanted to go over a few things before the interviews just in case.

Haymitch had dozed off halfway through the endless list of recommendations she gave the girl. As for him… She just begged him not to be his usual snarky self. Sarcastic enough to make the audience laugh but not harsh enough to antagonize was the thin line he would have to walk on.

It had been late by the time they had retired to her room and they had fallen asleep almost immediately. He suspected Effie had taken a pill while he wasn’t looking because she hadn’t stirred all night, not even when he had woken up short of breath, trying to grasp enemies who weren’t there. She had been lucky to remain still enough to not make herself a target to his unconscious mind.

“Not ready?” she repeated, confused and slightly out of it – which confirmed his sleeping pills theory. He finally managed to plug the appliance in just as he heard her feeling around the nightstand for the clock. “Oh my! Is it really nine thirty? I did not mean to sleep that long.”

“Needed it.” he dismissed, checking that he hadn’t forgotten anything.

She slipped out of bed and wrapped her arms around his waist, plastering her chest to his back and pressing a good morning kiss on his shoulder.

“What happened to my bottles?” she frowned when she caught sight of the mess. “And why, in Panem, would you bring a toaster in my room?” A toaster that really didn’t want to work, he thought to himself. She reached around him for the plate full of bread and her frown deepened. “You have no idea how bringing breakfast in bed is supposed to work, do you?”

He rolled his eyes and detached her arms from his waist so she would stand next to him.

“Ain’t breakfast, sweetheart.” he mumbled, keeping his eyes on the appliance. “We’re short of a fireplace. Had to improvise.”

“A fireplace?” She sounded completely flabbergasted. “Haymitch, you are not making any…”

“We’re toasting bread.” he cut her off firmly. “Together.”

It took her a second to catch up. “Oh.” She flushed. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” he mocked, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other. “I mean… We can just toast bread if you like that better, I guess. Thought it was something you…”

“Yes.” she interrupted him and, when he finally found the courage to meet her eyes, they were shiny and she was hastily blinking that away. “I… I would like that very much.” She looked down at herself and tugged on the short blue nightgown so she could inspect it. “Should I change? Should we change?”

She was eyeing his sweatpants and his lack of proper shirt critically.

“Let’s not make a fuss, yeah?” he winced. He wasn’t about to get dressed up for a hasty toasting made with a toaster instead of a fireplace. All the more so given that their time was precious and he didn’t intend to waste any second of it. “We toast. We fuck. We never talk about it again.”

Her excitement dimmed a little. She made the iris shaped ring turn around her finger, lowering her eyes. “You do not have to do this to please me or…”

“I want to.” he said before he could think twice about it. He was going to die. What was there to lose? It was awkward. It was exactly why he preferred avoiding that sort of effusions. He held out his hand, palm up. “If you want to.”

She placed her hand in his and smiled. It was bright and genuine. It made her look younger. He found himself smiling back in answer.

“How does it work?” she asked, studying the plate full of bread and the toaster with some interest.

Not like this, he almost answered. It wasn’t supposed to be a cheap thing on a dressing table. It was supposed to be meaningful and symbolic.

Lighting a fire, sharing a meal cooked on that fire… A warm home where no one would ever go hungry, that was what it was supposed to bring to a marriage. More accurately, the hearth represented the home and the bread was supposed to be for love.  

He wondered what it meant that their hearth would be an old toaster he had stolen from the kitchen and their bread some stuff that came straight from a plastic wrapping.

He placed the bread in the appliance and guided her hand to push on the button on the side.

“We light the fire together.” he said, after clearing his throat.

He felt ridiculous. This was the most ridiculous thing he had ever done.

It figured it would be because of her, for her. So she could have something… more to keep with her after he was gone. So she would forever know and not doubt what she had meant to him. It would probably have been better for her to forget and move on but he knew Effie. She might pretend everything was fine and that she was happy but… It would take more than that for her to stop clinging to his memory.

She would eventually.

She loved life too much.

She would find someone else, he believed that with every fiber of his being, he just hoped it would be someone worthy. And he tried not to be jealous of that man who wasn’t in the picture yet. He tried. But he failed.

Effie giggled when the bread popped back up properly toast. “And now?”

“Now…” he hesitated, grabbing one of the toasted slices and wincing because it burned his fingers. He blew on it and brought it close to her lips. “Bite.”

“Not something you say often when you put things in my mouth.” she grinned.

“Sassy.” he accused. The spark that was dancing in her eyes almost made him forget about the whole thing. But then she bit down on the toast with appropriate seriousness. He caught the wayward crumbs on her lips and leaned in to kiss her. That wasn’t really part of the ceremony but she wouldn’t know any better and they were taking liberties as it was. “Now you feed me.”

She took the remaining toast and imitated him by bringing it closer to his lips, one hand cupped underneath so no crumbs could fall on the carpet. He bit down with gusto, more hungry than he had realized. She raised on tiptoes once she had swallowed to press a soft kiss against his lips.

“Are we married now?” she whispered.

“Almost there.” he snorted. “Now, I’m supposed to say wife. And you’re supposed to answer…”

“Husband.” she supplied, grinning so hard it must have hurt – or powered the entire Center for a year. “And now? Are we married?”

“There’s the small matter of the consummation.” he smirked.

She giggled. “Oh, no… What a dreadful prospect!”

“Right?” he chuckled, running his hand over the silky fabric of her nightgown, shamelessly groping her.

“Should I play the frightened virgin for you?” she hummed.

He scooped her up bridal style in a swift move, making her scream in surprise.

“I like the minx act better.” he shrugged, forcing her to tighten her grip around his neck.

He tossed her on the bed and kicked off his sweatpants. She was still laughing when he kneeled between her legs and ran his palms on her inner thighs, pushing the fabric of her nightgown up. She arched her back to help him take it off and there she was, glorious in her nakedness.

“You’re gorgeous.” he said because as confident and vain as she was she never really believed it. He planted a kiss on her stomach, up her ribcage... He nuzzled her breasts and captured a nipple in his mouth…

He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with her.

Everything.

He wanted everything but he knew he needed to choose because they would never cram everything in a single day.  

He sucked on her pulse point, nipped at the vulnerable skin…

He cupped her breast, took a moment to enjoy the feeling of her hard nipple against his palm…

“Haymitch…” she breathed out.

He looked up into her blue eyes and he felt his mouth go dry. Her gaze was clouded with lust, she was pouting, frustrated by his inability to decide and actually do something, and… She was hot. She was hot and perfect and his for the rest of his short life.

She was his.

He hooked his elbow under her knee and forced her leg up.

She blindly reached behind her, braced herself for what was coming, and it only spurred him on.

The first thrust was brutal and she mewled in a mix of pleasure and pain. She licked her lips and wrapped her other leg around his thigh, urging him on.

It was almost a punishing pace.

Rough and violent that she started whimpering and moaning as soon as he had begun.

After a few minutes, she was incoherent and he pulled out of her, letting her confusedly feel around for his body.

“Haymitch.” she begged. “I need… I need…”

He rolled her on her stomach and she simply lifted her ass in the air in the oldest invitation in the world.

He didn’t resist it.

She came with a cry after a few thrusts and collapsed against the mattress, making him slip out of her. She was boneless and limp under him but she parted her legs without protest when he rested his weight on her back. The angle wasn’t awesome, not deep enough, and she wouldn’t come again but it was enough friction to do the trick for him.

He licked the sweat off her shoulder blade only to suck the skin in and to bite down. She wasn’t in any shape to protest so he had his fun leaving enough hickeys and marks that she wouldn’t be able to wear a bare back dress in a while.

He was so busy staking his claim that his climax took him by surprised.

He reached his release with a groan and remained slumped on her, his head propped on her nape. Her hair was tickling his face but he didn’t mind.

This, right there, was bliss.

Her hair in his face, the smell of her shampoo, the taste of her sweat in his mouth, her warmth surrounding him, clenching him still, the unmistakable fragrance of sex in the air…

He never wanted to move again.

He wanted time to stop.

Right there.

Right then.

He wanted time to stop.

He felt around until he found her left hand on the pillow and he entwined their fingers. The ring dug into his palm. An unexpected comfort.

He must have been crushing her but she didn’t protest his weight or nudge him off her. She seemed content to be crushed, truth be told, to feel his weight on her, the sensation of his stubble rasping against her skin with every breath he took…

He honestly thought they could have remained like that for most of the day if her stomach hadn’t grumbled. She shifted a little and he slid to the side with a soft regretful sigh.

“Don’t go.” she requested in a hurry, immediately snatching an arm around his chest and huddling close to him.

“Not going anywhere.” he mumbled against her hair, wrapping himself around her like an octopus. Legs tangled together, tight embrace… “You’re hungry?”

“It can wait.” she dismissed.

After the third time her stomach made noises, he chuckled and tugged on her arm to escape the bed. She whined in protest but he pressed a long messy kiss against her mouth. “I’ll be back.”

He could do some things right, he decided, as he strolled to the kitchen wearing sweatpants that hung low on his hips. He came back with a tray loaded with entirely too much stuff for the two of them. He hated wasting food but he figured there were days when he could indulge.  

She had been dozing off but she perked up when he nudged the door closed behind him with his foot.

“Now, that is what breakfast in bed should look like.” she praised.

She jumped on the muffins as soon as he had carefully set the tray in the middle of the bed. He was content to sip his coffee and watch her as she swallowed up half the plate of toasts with a generous amount of strawberry jam. Sex first thing in the morning always made her famished. It was one of her quirks and he loved it. He wasn’t sure why precisely because it was inconsequential but he loved it all the same. Just like he loved the way she automatically extended an arm in front of him before crossing a street because he had a reckless tendency to walk straight into traffic without checking for cars. Just like he loved the way she drummed her nails against her thigh when she was deep in thought.

“Do not stare at people when they eat, Haymitch.” she rebuked. “It is rude.”

“You’re hot.” he replied, nonplussed.

She blinked but took it in stride.

Trouble arose when she insisted on him eating something. She tried to force feed him a muffin but he really wasn’t hungry and it ended up with the tray being pushed aside and him having something quite different for breakfast.

He tried to chase the thought that it might be the last time he ate her out of his mind but it remained there, like a background chatter. He made it last just to enjoy it a little bit more. He brought her on the verge of orgasm only to delay it a while longer…

They stayed in bed the whole day, like they sometimes used to do after Twelve had lost the Games and they wanted to pretend the outside world didn’t exist.

They cuddled.

They touched.

They kissed.

They had sex.

Haymitch was in that state of boneless hollowness that only came with a thorough fuck.

Her lips ran on each of the scars on his back, mouthing the three words he never allowed her to say aloud against the battered skin. When she was done she rubbed his sore muscles, sometimes coupling the massage with licks, kisses and bites…

He let her ride his face.

They had never done that before, the lack of control on his part… It made him panic at first but she was enjoying it so much that he soon got into it. He still liked it a lot better once she slid down his body. That round was lazy. She remained slumped on his chest as their hips slowly did all the work.

They were too exhausted to be wild.

It was slow but almost frantic at the same time. Desperate perhaps. As if they were determined to take everything they could even if their bodies died in the process.

He wasn’t sure they had ever done it so often in one day. He wasn’t sure where he was finding the stamina either. Maybe knowing it was his last opportunity for a real sex feast was doing miracle for his virility.

“We should have dinner with the children.” she hummed, around seven.

“You really think you can sit through a three courses dinner?” he snorted. He hadn’t exactly been oblivious to all the wincing and the wriggling she had been doing for the past half hour. She was sore, he figured, and he understood. He was a bit sore too.

“I am starving!” she complained. “And we can get some whipped cream and chocolate for dessert. If you are a good boy, I will let you eat it on me…”

“Food kink is your thing.” he retorted, wrapping his arms around the pillow and burying his face in it.

“Then I will eat it on you.” she grinned, swinging her legs off the bed.

“Where are you going?” he grumbled, sneaking an arm around her waist to hold her back. “Dinner’s not for a half hour.”

“I need a shower.” she sighed.

“No.” he sulked, tightening his hold.

“Haymitch, I reek of sex.” she frowned. “I need…”

“You reek of me.” he cut her off, nuzzling the small of her back only to bite down on it. Her back was a mess of reddish marks of teeth and the occasional scratch. There were some bruises shaped like his fingers on her hips too. He probably shouldn’t have been as proud of his handiwork as he was. He bumped his nose against the new mark. “Mine.”

It was a primitive growl and he felt her shiver. Not of fear or cold. She was aroused.

“How about I let you play with me in the shower?” she purred. “Would that be a suitable concession?”

His tired brain mulled that over and he scoffed. “That’s just a trick to get me to wash up.”

“I never claimed there weren’t additional benefits.” she chuckled. Her nails were up and down his forearm and it made it hard for him to think. He was tired. He felt good. Sated. “Come on, darling.” she coaxed, leaning down to pepper his jaw with kisses. “There will be no time to properly share a meal tomorrow… I want to enjoy this last one with the children.”

He let out a long deep breath to let her know she was being annoying – mainly because she was right. “Fine.”

He rolled out of bed with some difficulty.

The shower, all things considered, wasn’t such a bad idea. They fooled around but they didn’t actually do anything. Later on, maybe, they would be recovered enough to enjoy each other’s company but right then, he didn’t think he could have gotten it up if his life had depended on it. Warm water on their sweaty skin was bliss though.

He didn’t see the point of getting dressed when it would only be the four of them so he ignored her arguments and pleas and stuck to his sweatpants and a shirt. He lied on the bed and dozed off while she got ready, pampering herself with far too much make-up for the occasion.

Having dinner with the kids was nice, though. They seemed happy. They were a bit evasive on what they had done with their afternoon. Katniss kept toying with her hair and avoiding everyone’s eyes. Peeta’s cheeks were a bit flushed and, if he did meet Haymitch’s eyes, he soon averted them.

Haymitch smirked but didn’t tease them about it.

They tacitly kept to light topics. Nobody ever mentioned the Games, the interviews or the arena.

It was… relaxing.

They joked, they teased each other, they laughed…

They lingered at the dinner table long after dessert had come and gone – although he did notice Effie making a murmured request to the Avox girl so he figured there would be whipped cream, chocolate and strawberries waiting in her bedroom.

It was late enough when Effie made a show of being tired and going to bed early. Haymitch didn’t bother, the kids weren’t interested in whatever their mentor and their escort were going to do anyway, they were too busy making eyes at each other.

Katniss disappeared in the living-room and Haymitch caught Peeta’s arm before he could follow.

“You need… stuff, boy?” he asked, trying to be tactful.

The kid’s ears burned crimson.

“No, I’m good.” Peeta mumbled, staring at his shoes.

He patted his shoulder with a  snort and went back to his escort’s bedroom.

Effie was sitting at her dressing table, the toaster had been pushed aside, and she was removing the layers of make-up off her face. She looked up when he stepped in and she grinned, nodding at something behind her.

At the tray loaded with sweet things, he figured. He chuckled a little but flopped down on the bed, happy to let her eat anything she wanted on any part of his body.

“You’re never gonna guess what…” he taunted.

“The children had intercourse.” she deadpanned, applying a generous amount of lotion on her face. She ruffled her hair, checked her reflection in the mirror, and then turned the stool around to study him, looking absolutely too cocky. “Do you think I was born yesterday? Katniss was practically glowing.”

“Thought you would scream your head off.” he admitted, a bit disappointed. He had been looking forward to seeing shock on her face.

“Under normal circumstances, I absolutely would.” she granted. “Given how we chose to spend our day however…” She shook her head sadly. “They’ve grown up since we met them, don’t you think? Being with Peeta all week… He has a man’s bearing now. I cannot say Katniss is as mature as I would wish but…”

She let her voice trail off.

“It’s their last day.” he shrugged.

And it wasn’t their place to judge what they did with it.

“Exactly.” she hummed. “Now… Where were we?”

She stood up and unzipped her dress.

What else could he do but watch?

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #prompt

[porchwood]

Writing Check-In: Six Months to Strawberry Time, Ch 4

I was hoping to finish this chapter in time for Gadge Day but didn’t manage to get beyond the first scene. :/ However, in the spirit of Gadge Day, I’m posting all that’s written thus far (approx. 2500 words). Still a bit rough around the edges, but here you go. ❤

“Your mother is a witch,” I declare by way of greeting, and none too kindly, and Prim gives much the same answer as my own mother when I expressed the same sentiment about Alyssum Everdeen at breakfast.

“I know,” she answers without batting an eye, her own opening words obligingly set aside to deal with my concern. “Though, to be fair, I think the magic usually happens by accident, and of course she can’t use it on herself. What did she do to you?” she asks with a little smile.

“Dreams,” I reveal tersely. “Vivid ones.”

“Bad ones?” she ventures with what almost passes for concern, but her eyes are dancing.

“I married Gale and had his baby,” I reply, as though such is the stuff of nightmares, and her entire face curls up in a grin.

“And, um…you’re complaining?” she wonders merrily, her sympathy thoroughly abandoned.

“Shut up,” I retort, but without malice, and slip my arm through hers.

“I wonder if she found some old mugwort,” she muses as we head down the street. “I really thought the lozenges were just lavender and honey, but I suppose even that might be enough to crumble your resistance on a subconscious level and open the floodgates, as it were.”

“How do you know about the lozenges?” I ask, looking at her with a start.

“Well, your mom stopped by last night and left with a pouch of them,” she observes. “While your dad was at the bakery, and I know you’ve had a difficult couple of days –”

“I’m sorry!” I blurt, though she’s said nothing to prompt it, or even to indicate that she was aware of my presence in the alley last night. “They left me outside for a few minutes and –”

“I know,” she says, to my surprise, and without the slightest indication of offense. “I heard your parents talking to you after and figured you must have been out there at least part of the time, whether or not you wanted to be. Any insights to share?” she wonders.

“You…you’re not furious with me for eavesdropping?” I sputter, taken aback by her response.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m going to make you tell me all about your dream in a minute,” she promises with gleeful relish. “And then I might pick on you for a bit for running away and hiding from me after school. But we’re courting from our windowsills, for pity’s sake,” she reminds me. “I mean, our conversations are private, but I doubt you’re the first to overhear one.”

“So you’re calling it courting now?” I ask, dropping my voice a little. “Outright and for-real?”

“Not outright,” she hedges. “Not even between ourselves, really, but the word did come up at last night – after you left, probably.”

“And who brought it up?” I wonder, gleeful in my turn, because I have a reasonably good idea how this may have played out, and Prim blushes like a midsummer rose.

“Of course it was him,” she whispers through a sprawling smile. “And it wasn’t like that. He said he can’t court me properly – not the way he wants – for at least two more winters, so I proposed we carry on courting improperly in the meantime.”

“Prim!” I gasp, scandalized.

“I meant after-dinner chocolate at the windows and mysterious ribbons!” she hisses, her blush deepening to crimson as she ducks her face toward my coat sleeve. “You know, secret little things that only we share and understand. Marko got it –”

“Before or after he blushed like a beetroot and told you that wasn’t a good idea?” I guess, grinning now, and her small face disappears into my shoulder.

“He figured it out quickly enough,” is the muffled response. “And I mean, really: who wants improper courtship?”

“I don’t know; what is ‘improper courtship’?” I puzzle impishly, wondering whether it was Prim’s lover or mother who clarified this for her and wishing wildly to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation.

“I know where babies come from, Madge,” she replies, raising a face crinkled in genuine disgust. “Quite literally, as it happens, and how they get there has got to be a means-to-an-end kind of thing because…” Her mouth twists like she’s just tasted something awful. “It’s just so…ick,” she declares, as though that word sums up the business entirely.

I grin, unsurprised by her sentiment – if also, faintly, relieved – and ruffle her capped head, because the mere idea of seeing a boy naked, let alone lying placidly beneath him while he pushes that strange jutting appendage up between my legs, is still every bit as revolting to me as it must be to Prim. “Ick indeed,” I agree heartily, but can’t resist adding, “But you know: you can’t get pregnant from hand-holding or kisses, and nobody has to be naked for that.”

“I’m well aware,” she answers, unamused and refusing to rise to the bait. “But both of those fall under the heading of ‘proper courtship,’ never mind Marko’s in no hurry to do either one with me.”

I wonder if he actually told her this outright or something along those lines, and if that was his way of gently keeping her at arm’s length till she reaches a more acceptable courting age. “You’re already sneaking in hand-holds all over the place,” I reassure her. “So I wouldn’t be too worried – and honestly, I say find out when your mom and his dad had their first kiss and set that as your benchmark.”

“Because that worked out so well for them?” she wonders wryly.

“Well, unless you can see yourself marrying Rory Hawthorne someday,” I tease, “I think the pair of you are safe.”

“Ugh!” she exclaims, just shy of a gagging noise, and I can’t help feeling the slightest bit sorry for her gangly, hopeless admirer. “Anyway, if you’re looking for the next generation of Jack Everdeen, I think Vick or even Gale is a closer match,” she points out. “And as both of them are in love with you, I’m not worried about either one spontaneously singing his way into my heart.”

“But you’re the Everdeen in this equation,” I point out – quickly, hoping to cover up my blush with a witty rejoinder. “Best watch where you sing before you have every man in the Seam sighing and pining at your back door, ribbons in hand.”

“I got Mom’s voice, not Dad’s,” she dismisses, though this means less than she thinks. For a long while after Aunt Maysi died, the only thing that could bring my mother any measure of restful sleep was Alyssum Ebberfeld’s soft husky voice gently crooning a lullaby. “So there’s no danger of birds falling silent to hear me, let alone men,” Prim concludes matter-of-factly. “Now, tell me about your dream. Did it involve proper or improper courtship?” she wonders, her practicality vanishing in the face of fresh mischief.

“Proper, of course,” I answer with mock-affront. “I told you, we got married –”

“And you had his baby,” she reminds me. “Did you get ‘round to making that baby,” she wheedles wickedly, “or did it just show up?”

I blush in spite of myself, abruptly recalling the tryst in the woods – the damp, almost piney scent of wild lavender crushed by the tangle of two ardent bodies – and shake my head furiously in lieu of a reply.

“Oho!” Prim crows triumphantly. “Do tell!”

“There’s nothing to tell,” I lie, “and the baby just showed up, really. One minute there was a toasting and then a bridal bed – that I saw, nothing more,” I add firmly, leaving out the familiar olive-skinned hand brushing away lavender blossoms from between the sheets. “And the next moment I was soaking in a tub, holding this newborn baby and…”

“And?” she prompts breathlessly.

“Crying,” I confess, almost a whisper. “Well, laughing and crying in equal measure.”

Prim stops us in our tracks, her mirth exchanged for a grave gentleness. “Have you ever seen a birth?” she asks softly. “Because that’s pretty much what happens. Once the mother has the baby in her arms – fresh from the womb, not all pretty and clean and bundled up – the joy just comes crashing out. She’s laughing and sobbing all at once, as if there isn’t an expression strong enough for what she’s feeling.”

“That was it exactly,” I whisper and ache for that tiny body cradled to my breast, its thatch of wet black hair scattered with lavender buds.

“Do you want kids, Madge?” she asks, so gently. “I know our mothers never did, for obvious reasons, and Katniss doesn’t either, but I suspect a winter in the woods with a boy who was born to be a father will change that.”

“I never much thought about it,” I admit and marvel inwardly that I haven’t even made it to the woods with the Hawthornes’ stand-in father yet and already I’m dreaming of having his child. “I didn’t – don’t – expect I’ll ever marry, so it’s not something that could ever be a part of my future.”

“And if you happened to fall in love – with, say, a virile young Seam man who wants a family of him own?” she presses, but still so somberly. “Dad wanted us desperately but he loved Mom so much he married her in spite of her never wanting kids. She changed her mind, obviously, several years down the road, but…Gale isn’t that kind of patient.”

“I gathered,” I reply with the faintest of smiles and wonder if Gale would be the type of husband who’s never truly happy unless his wife is pregnant and spends every night diligently endeavoring to start a child inside her. As repellent as the idea of sex still is to me, there’s something oddly endearing about that fierce, angry boy wanting a baby of his own – and the idea of him attempting, night after night, to create one.

I suppose it’s as primal a desire as they come, the urge – no, need – to procreate and forge your own bloodline, but still I can’t hold back a giggle at the image of Gale climbing over me in an old-fashioned nightshirt, gruffly grumbling something along the lines of, Come on, woman, we haven’t got all night! as he  impatiently hikes up the hem.

“I’m being entirely serious, you know,” Prim breaks into this daydream with decided consternation. “Acting like there’s nothing whatsoever amusing – or intriguing – about you and Gale getting married and promptly creating a baby, and here you are giggling!”

“I’m sorry!” I claim through bubbles of laughter. “I was just imagining him as a grumpy, impatient husband, determined to plant a baby in his long-suffering wife at every opportunity.”

Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “You’re looking forward to all those ‘opportunities,’ aren’t you?” she exclaims. “I knew it!”

“No!” I insist, because my brain truly can’t think past the nightshirt – I couldn’t visualize the act of intercourse even if I wanted to – but there’s an inexplicable, warm pleasant stirring low in my belly at the prospect of repeatedly making love with Gale, so on some primitive level that I can’t begin to understand, Prim’s right.

“No,” I tell her again, as firmly as I can manage. “I’m not looking forward to – I’m not even thinking about! – being in bed with Gale, or any of the rest of it. I’m going to spend the rest of my life alone, looking after my parents and, like as not, teaching piano lessons.”

“There’s a certain Seam man who might have something to say about that,” she warns mirthfully. “And I’m sure it would be much more acceptable for you to marry him openly than to sneak him in through your bedroom window every night for passionate interludes, till suddenly you’re the pregnant spinster with high lace collars to hide the love-bites.”

“You have a diseased imagination,” I scold, tugging her down the street once more, but it’s impossible to stay angry at, let alone properly chastise, a merrily grinning Prim. “And anyway, how do you know about high collars and love-bites?” I counter sternly.

“I’m in secondary school,” she reminds me, “so I overhear things, and my mother is the town apothecary. Once couples go much beyond love-bites, there’s usually a visit to the Justice Building and then to our place for prenatal advice – not necessarily in that order.”

“Love-bites would be improper courting, then?” I tease, and she rolls her eyes.

“I fail to see the appeal,” she says dryly, then adds with a wink, “But I expect you can tell me all about it in a week or two. Rumor has it that Gale leaves ‘great’ ones, whatever that means.”

I frown. What she said about Gale is hardly a secret, especially around the secondary school, but for the first time it’s affecting me with something sharper than the typical annoyance. I don’t care two pins about the couples propped against the back of the school building devouring each other in grunts and shallow breaths, but suddenly it bothers me that Gale has done this with multiple other girls, enough to garner a reputation as a dispenser of “great” love-bites.

Maybe he really is in love with someone and maybe he’s not, but at least half of those girls must have thought she was it – the one he wants to marry and start that family with – only to be discarded after a few passionate rounds of groping and kisses.

“Sorry,” Prim says, perceiving my distress, if not the reason for it. “I didn't mean to imply that Gale is such a…wastrel.”

But it’s true. His name has been linked with a generous, indefinite handful of girls, all Seam that I can think of, and never for long. Never for real. I can't think of any one ever being acknowledged as his sweetheart, let alone girlfriend. To the best of my recollection, the only girl he’s ever stuck around for any length of time is Katniss, and she’s an incandescent sliver of the moon itself. I can’t quite decide whether she’d burn or freeze his lips off if he ever came close enough to steal a kiss, to say nothing of dispensing a love-bite.

“No, you’re right,” I tell her. “Gale hasn’t exactly been choosy in his kissing partners.”

“Maybe he’s too choosy,” she suggests. “He doesn’t ever keep them around – take them home to meet his family, and the rest – and I know he never laid a finger on Katniss.”

“And how do you know that?” I wonder, though these tidings are as welcome as they are unsurprising.

“Well, he still has all of those fingers, doesn’t he?” she replies with a grin. “Katniss would’ve snapped off the offending one at the base if he ever once tried.”

I return her smile, grateful to have an answer at last, and she goes on, “Don’t misunderstand me: I’m not approving his behavior, just trying to make sense of it. I think he loves someone he doesn’t think he can ever have and so he’s coping with meaningless encounters with any girl he can get.”

“He could’ve had Katniss,” I insist, but Prim shakes her head.

“Wild things need bread and soft words and shyness,” she reminds me. “I’m not sure she even saw him as a male, just another feral creature to share the hunt and the spoils. And you know that’s not who I’m talking about.”

#writing check-in #six months to strawberry time #gadge day #gadge #gale/madge #when the mooniverse

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday Historywriter2007!

We extend a huge Happy Birthday to one of our contributors @historywriter2007! Sorry it is a little late, but we hope you had a lovely day! To add more birthday cheer to your day, the lovely @mega-aulover has written a special Everlark fic just for you! We hope you like it :)

Title: Rosie the Riveter. 

Prompt: I love historical AUs especially WWII, but will take anything. Some smut would be great too!

Rating: M (Warning Explicit Everlark)

A/N: Happy Birthday @historywriter2007 I hope you had a wonderful day.  A special thanks to the marvelous queen my friend and beta @titaniasfics, you always make me a better writer.

Spring 1942, Virginia; USO Hall

Tommy Dorsey and his band were playing a great set. The hall was filled with Navy sailors and Marines. Each competing for the group of ‘Rosie the Riveters’ who worked at the docks by day and danced at the USO and other dance halls. At the USO, the men swung the girls around and the matronly chaperons were desperately trying to keep the dancing at a respectable level, but that didn’t mean things didn’t happen between the boys and the riveters.

“How’s it going, Rosey?” Johanna said, plunking down next to Prim.

“Katniss is being a fuddy-duddy again,” Prim huffed. “She’s like a mother hen, won’t let me dance with any of the boys?”

“Where is she?”

“Over by the fruit punch,” Prim scowled just like Katniss. “This is my first time at the USO! It’s my patriotic and civic duty to bop with them! And my sister has me pushing the empty seats back into the tables so that,” Prim used air quotes, “no one trips on the chairs.”

“Let me deal with Brainless,” Jo said.

A long buffet table was set to the side here several girls were serving bottles         of soda, donuts, sandwiches and other refreshments. Katniss poured punch for the boys in uniform. She often didn’t smile but she was pleasant. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She didn’t need them, it was a defense mechanism  to keep the men at bay. Her mother and aunt were hoping she’d find a suitable match here. Just like her neighbor, Leevy, who met a soldier from Arkansas and now was married to him.

“Brainless.” Johanna scooted up next to her.

Katniss rolled her eyes at the loud-mouthed woman who was the bane of her existence since they were put together on the line at the factory. Both girls worked down at the naval yard soldering the joints on Navy Destroyers.

“I saw that,” Jo grinned, then winked at the man who stood in front of Katniss. “Excuse me, my friend is needed in the back,” Jo said, grabbing Katniss by the arm,at the same time pushing the nearest girl to the punch table.

“Jo!” Katniss said, “What is this about? And you better not say donuts because I just hauled twelve boxes out there.” The girls were either greeters, dancers, servers or they were performers. Katniss had sung once a few weeks ago because the evening’s entertainment was bogged down by the weather. She normally stuck to serving. Jo preferred dancing.

“Listen, you made me a promise, to say yes!”

Katniss scowled. She remembered the dare. She was going to say yes to the first boy who asked her to dance, it was a little more complicated than that. She was supposed to say yes to anything the guys wanted to do, as long as it wasn’t promiscuous  while volunteering at the hall.

“You’re going to let Rosey dance,” Jo began. Katniss opened her mouth to protest and remind Jo that her sister’s name was Primrose, not Rosey.  Jo put a finger on Katniss lip, “Let me finish.” At Katniss scowl, Jo gave Katniss a pointed I-mean-business look. “With the boys Annie deems nice enough to dance with, the kid she did just turn eighteen. She has a right to be here now, and we are going watch over her.” Katniss couldn’t say no, to that. Jo however pressed forward, “ You are also going to say yes to the next guy who asks you to dance and continue to say yes all night long. Is that clear!!?” Jo didn’t wait for Katniss to speak she took her glasses off her face.

Katniss grimaced - she had half-a-mind to take her baby sister home with her.

“You made a bet and lost, and you promised Everdeen-”

Katniss sighed, it was a sure bet, who could have known that Jo could go a week without getting drunk? Now she was stuck having to be social instead of minding her time behind the scenes as she was comfortable doing. “Fine.”

“Good, now that you’ve got your marching orders, go show off those gams.” Jo said slapping Katniss in the butt. Jo was raised by men in wild sof Alaska. She was rough around the edges but she was loyal.

Katniss followed Jo out and watched her go to Annie,then to Prim whose face bloomed with joy. A small smile played on her lips.

“You’re awfully pretty when you smile.”

Katniss spun around to see a   man with blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. He was handsome in that boy-next-door, good looks sort of way, with broad shoulders, and an easy smile. Her tongue became leaden in her mouth.

“Do you want to dance?” he blushed, “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked,” he gripped his hat in his hands. “Are you rationed?”

Katniss wondered why he’d ask her when he could have asked any of the girls she worked with.  She shyly shook her head no.

“I’m glad, I wouldn’t want to compete with another fellow.”

Katniss glanced at his decal. e was a cook, a baker.  “You wouldn’t have much competition anywhere Seaman Mellark.”

“I can’t do the fast dances, but I can do the slow ones.” His neck became flushed.

Katniss forgot about the bet. There was something about this this baker that gave her butterflies. He extended his arm out to her and she slipped her hand through it.

 They began to dance slowly to Tommy Dorsey’s, Manhattan Serenade when he tripped. “Sorry,” he murmured, then he tripped again. By the sixth time his face was as red as a tomato.

 “It’s okay I’m not a great dancer either, it’s why I tend to stick with serving the punch.” Katniss wanted him to relax, he was stiff and she could tell he was nervous. “Why don’t we take a walk?”

 It was a good time to remove themselves from the busy dance as the Dorsey ordered the ‘Boogie Woogie’ be played.  Peeta gallantly escorted her out of the hall.

 “My name is Peeta by the way,” he said as they found themselves outside of the building.  They walked to a small park nearby where she leaned against the tree. She wasn’t much of a conversationalist, and she wasn’t great at making friends like her sister was. Katniss was wallflower, until tonight. She felt comfortable and she let her guard down. It was scary and thrilling, she’d never been this close to a boy that she was attracted to. Her life revolved around taking care of her family’s bills. Katniss had worked steadily from the moment her father died at the tender age of twelve. She’d always acted beyond mature. Laughing and behaving girlishly was new to her.

“A pleasure,” she said, “my name is Katniss.”

“I’ve been coming here for a few weeks now,” Peeta said, slipping his hands in his pockets.

“You have?”

“I was in a wheelchair before tonight. The nurses from the infirmary have been wheeling me here every Friday night  for like a month just so I can get out of the hospital and socialize.”

Knowing he had been in danger and got hurt caused her body to grow cold, it reminded her of when she’d lost her father. Her eyes scanned his face, “What happened?”

“I was at Pearl Harbor,” Peeta simply stated. “I used to be able to dance.”

“You’re legs,” Katniss whispered, it was the only reason he’d been in a wheelchair and why he couldn’t dance the fast songs. While she was immobilized by the walls she erected to keep her heart safe, he was immobilized by a cataclysmic man made event. She felt a kindred spirit by him. Her eyes traveled to his mouth as he spoke, the urge to kiss him took her breath away.  

“Amputated, well one is. The other is fine.” Peeta said stepping back. He took on a funny face. “I know that a girl like you going for a guy like me is not likely-”

Hearing him begin to push away did something funny to her. She wanted to get closer she needed to touch him grab his attention. Katniss did something bold, something Johanna would’ve been proud off, she took his hand and pulled him close. He lost balance and squished her up against the tree. Katniss wound her arms around his middle, stretched up on tiptoe and planted one on his lips. Her first kiss and it was a lulu. She swore she saw fireworks. He somehow found his footing and lifted her off the ground. Her hands traveled up from his waist until they wound themselves around his neck.

They pulled apart momentarily, glancing at each other in the silence of the night, shaded and protected by the blooming tree.  He moved in closer.

 His lips slowly pecked her. He grew bolder until   their lips fused and she sighed as his warm lips caused a fire to spread from the pit of her stomach. His mouth gently pulled on her bottom lip and she gasped, “Peeta.”

Her eyes were still closed when he pulled away. He put her back on her own to feet, their foreheads were pressed against the other.

“WOW,” Peeta exclaimed, “That was, WOW!”

Katniss smiled as her lashes fluttered open, the same wonder that was displayed in his eyes was the same way she felt inside. She pressed her lips to his once more; a small groan escaped her as she did. She was ravenous for his lips, the warmth spread from her heart to the very tips of her toes. She slipped her fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Nothing mattered except his man, this moment and she was saying yes to everything.

“Katniss?”

Katniss stiffened in his arms.  She peeked around his shoulder to see her opened-mouthed baby sister and a smug look Johanna. Peeta turned around, Katniss wanted them to go away she was embarrassed.

“Peeta Mellark, this is my friend, Johanna and my sister, Primrose,” Katniss said, Her cheeks and tips of her ears burning despite the cool spring night.

“A pleasure,” Peeta extended his hand.

Prim stared at Peeta with a wide-eyed look. Jo, however, looked at him as if he was the main entrée.

“You’re the cook Annie’s been telling me about,” Jo blurted out.

“Johanna!!! That’s not polite!!” Prim reprimanded. “He’s a wounded soldier who deserves our respect.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean any offense by it,” Jo said contritely. “The military need strong men to cook and wash dishes.”

 “It’s okay,” Peeta intervened before Prim and Jo got into an argument.

 “Listen I came to tell you that I was taking Rosey here home  before your mother has a conniption. If you want to stay out with lover boy you can. I’m sure we can come up with an excuse.”

She didn’t want to be alone, she wanted to be with him. “Thank you,” she was glad they would cover for her. “I’m not sure what time Peeta has to be back at the hospital ward?”

“Actually I have a pass for the weekend.  The hospital arranged it so that I can work on base, as a cook. They’ve even given me a house.”

Katniss smiled and didn’t notice when her sister and friend walked away.

 “So...” Katniss trailed off. The hum of the music could be heard coming from the hall. “You owe me a dance.”

“I promise you one at our wedding,” Peeta said, and then quickly followed with, “Not that-” he stammered.

“Let’s walk some more,” Katniss interrupted.

The walked and talked. Mostly he talked and she listened. She liked the timber of his voice, the way it  sounded gravely at times and soft at others. He talked about growing up in a bakery. How he was able to bake at the hospital as part of his recovery and why they didn’t discharge him, despite his amputated leg. One of his doctors, Doctor Aurelius, suggested this, since it was obvious his mother didn’t want him home.

Katniss instantly disliked Peeta’s mother for not caring enough about her son’s welfare. He’d survived the most horrific attack on US soil. He’d watched his friends die. She clung to his hand as they walked through the dark streets. They ended up at her house, a small two bedroom house that Katniss worked very hard to maintain. They sat on the swing on the  front porch. Katniss leaned her head on his shoulder as they rise.

“Can I see you tomorrow?”

“You mean today?” Katniss whispered, feeling a euphoria she’d never felt as they shifted to stare at the other.

He chuckled, “Yeah tonight, I want to take you to the movies, if that’s okay.”

“I’ll allow it,” Katniss said. The muscles in his face crinkled as he glanced at her with joy. This was a look she could live with, she thought just as hips lips touched hers for the briefest of moments.  When he left, it was like she was missing an arm or leg. Katniss was on pins and needles that day until he arrived that night.

He brought flowers for her mother, and chocolate chip cookies he’d made for her sister. “Mrs. Everdeen, these are for you.”

 “Wildflowers,” her mother said teary eyed. “My late husband always brought me wildflowers.”

 “I didn’t think you’d appreciate the contrived beauty of a rose. Wildflowers colors are vivid and sweeter smelling.”  

 Her mother nodded proudly.  “Katniss help me in the kitchen one minute.”

 Katniss followed her mother.

 “Katniss Everdeen, you will not let that boy slip away, and thank your stars he will not be going into battle again, with his bad leg and all.” Her mother put her hands on her shoulders. “Go have a nice time with your young man, I’m sure your father would’ve have approved.”  

 “Yes mama.”  Katniss was surprised by how quickly he won over her mother. She watched her mother gush over Peeta as they left the house.

 They took her Ford pickup truck that had seene better days. It was her father’s truck.  They went to the pictures but when they left it was Katniss turn to become chatty. She told him about her father, and the accident that caused them to come to Virginia and leave their family back in the Appalachian town. Peeta listened carefully just the way she’d done the night before.  As before they ended up on her porch talking until the sunrise, and they spent the day together laughing and stealing kisses whenever her sister or mother weren’t looking. The next day at work Katniss was not only tired but was utterly distracted.

 And she spent the next few months, distracted by Seaman Mellark.

Peeta was such a gentleman that he wanted to go slow with her. She was the one who wanted to be physically intimate with him. Two months into courting, it dawned on her as to why Johanna always said she felt desperate. Katniss felt hungry, she wanted to finish what they started in the car. She wanted to feel his hands on her and not just shy touches on top of her clothing.

Three months into dating, they were parked in a glen they’d found by the side of the road.

 They were in the back of the truck, supposedly to stargaze. Katniss wriggled beneath him, feeling that coiling sensation in the pit of her stomach. Peeta trailed kisses from her mouth to her neck. One hand palmed her breast while the other was lightly fingering the skin along strap of her garter.

 Peeta pulled away to glance down at her, a question in his eyes. Katniss opened her legs wider, glad she'd worn flowing skirt instead of the tighter one. Her underwear was soaked, as the anticipation built up. He finally slipped his hand under her skirt, touching her through her underwear. She gave a throaty cry as his fingers quickly discovered what she liked, a rubbing and tapping motion, making her come hard.

 He smiled at her,and she blushed. She tried to touch him through his pants, to reciprocate.

 “Katniss I can’t. You're going to drop me off at base and the it wouldn’t look good for me to walk around the base with my uniform soiled.”

 From that night on Katniss had made a choice to encourage him.  But he became shy and they returned back to kissing and chaste touching. It frustrated her until it dawned on her that Peeta was ashamed of his leg.

Summer was coming to an end and the big talk around town was the Officer’s Ball.  Because Peeta was the best pastry chef he was invited as well.  He’d asked Katniss to attend with him. She was mulling over the opportunity that presented to her to actually get on base and see his home.

 “So what are you going to do?” Jo asked one night as they were cleaning up the hall.

 “Peeta’s not like Finnick, I was the one who told Finn to slow down,” Annie said. Annie and Jo knew all about Katniss issue with Peeta.  

 Jo slapped Katniss on the back, “ You’re going to have seduce Captain Slow.”

 “Jo,” Katniss warned, she didn’t like it when Jo called him that.

 Annie giggled at Jo’s nickname for Peeta, the  with a serious voice, “You can do it the night of the dance.”

 Katniss thought about it. “But what about my mom and Prim?”

 “Jo can convince Ol’Cray to give your mother the night shift, and Jo can stay at home with Prim.”

 Jo spat her juice. “Now-”

 Annie grinned, “Now Jo, you know very well you’ll be able to dress Katniss better than I can, and you can stay the night at Katniss house leaving me the apartment for Finn and I.”

 Katniss was red but she was willing, she gave Jo a pleading look.

 “Fine I’ll take one for the team,” Jo said.

Katniss had a plan. She arranged to take the day after the dance off.  Jo got her mother the night shift and she wouldn’t be back until ten in the morning. Jo was volunteered to stay with Prim.

 The night of the dance Katniss drove to the base. There was a dance and she was wearing a golden yellow crepe dress that looked like the sunset as Peeta had described. Along the collar there were sequins that looked like a flying dandelion helicopters. Johanna did her hair to look like Dorothy Lamour, and lent her red lipstick, and gave her real silk stockings she’d gotten from a marine.

“Miss. Everdeen,” The guard looked up her name and gave the okay for the gates to be lifted. They knew her by now. She’d come often enough to pick up Peeta, because he wasn’t proficient at driving yet.  Peeta stood at the entrance in his dress blues. Since meeting Peeta, she grew to appreciate the Navy uniform.

Peeta whistled “Hot dam! You look killer diller!” He couldn’t take his eyes off her as he gave her directions to the house.

“We have an hour or so to before the dance begins,” Katniss was going to suggest going over to his place when he surprised her.

“I made us a light dinner,” Peeta flushed around the collar of his uniform.

“Thank you, I’m hungry,” Katniss listened to the way her voice dipped. She felt like the wolf who was about to pounce and gobble up Little Red Riding Hood.

The house was modest but it was better than hers . He opened the door and showed her inside. Katniss wandered to the kitchen where he’d set not just any meal but a romantic dinner. She spun around when she felt Peeta behind him and her hands crawled up his solid chest. She stood on  tiptoe  and kissed him. Her lipstick smeared his lips and she liked the idea that she’d just branded him. He kissed her back and she navigated them to a kitchen chair. Hiking up her dress, she sat astride him and pulled off his jacket and undid his shirt. She groaned when her hands shifted underneath his undershirt to feel the smooth skin of his chest.

His hands traveling up her thigh, finding the garter and slipping underneath toward her core.

There lips were fused, when his fingers first encountered her sopping core. He pulled away, “You’re not wearing underwear?” He began to move his hand away.

Katniss stopped his hand from moving by clamping on his arm from leaving her achy needy body. A sigh escaped her lips as his hand found her once more. She tossed her head back when she felt his fingers begin to slide back and forth, exploring her folds. She grabbed belt as one finger slip into her while another played with her bundle of nerves.  He watched her come apart as the tension exploded.  When she came down from her  high, she wasn’t satisfied. She wanted to be with him. She kissed his neck as he groaned and stirred beneath her.

He paused in mid-kiss, pulling his head back to gaze at her with uncertainty. "I want you so bad, but ..." he swallowed hard. "...I haven't been with anyone since my amputation."

If he only knew she found him incredibly attractive just because of who he was. Katniss was never one for too many words and decided to show him how much of a man she thought he was. She leapt from her chair and slipping her hand behind her,  undoing the simple button that held the dress together.

“Katniss, what…” Peeta voice sounded strangled as he watched her peel off the gown. She slowly pull down the straps of her tight garter Jo managed to wrap around her. It took some time to undo the hooks but by the look on Peeta’s face it was well worth it when he beheld her naked body.

His hands shook and he balled them on the side as she climbed back onto his lap.

“We can’t…I’m not complete.” His voice was rough.

“Tell me Peeta,” she whispered pressing herself against him feeling him tremble.

“I’m not man enough for you. I don’t even have two legs, Katniss…” Peeta’s voice shook.

“Applesauce, I don’t care about that.” Katniss gently touched him through his pants. She felt him harden under her touch.  “Peeta, I want you, I want you to be my first and one and only.”

Peeta eyes flashed, “You mean...?”

“I’ve never done this,” Katniss swallowed feeling exposed and not just physically naked, but emotionally open. “Shared myself with anyone, and I don’t just mean my virginity. I mean, allowed anyone to see me. You saw past my glasses and my awkwardness. You treated me like a lady when I work besides men. You’re a gentle caring human being Peeta Mellark, it’s me who doesn’t deserve you.”

 His eyes flashed, first in surprise then in amazement.

 “I’m not good at saying stuff like this.”  Her fingers busily nudged his undershirt higher.  She marveled at how tan her skin was compared to his. He was paler than she was but he was also flushed pink.  She leaned up against his chest, her flesh pressed against his provoked a hiss.  She somehow got his shirt off and tossed it over her shoulders.

 “We’ve always meant to be.” She whispered into his ear. Feeling brave she kissed him on the neck, her red lipstick leaving a visible trail. “ I’ve wanted it to be you and only you from the first moment we met at the USO. I need you,” she whispered.

His calloused hands slid up her thighs, one gripped her buttock, the other spread wide on the small of her back. She felt goosebumps wherever he touched. “I didn’t think any girl would want me after my leg was amputated.” He let go of her bottom and pressed his fingers at the back of her neck. “I want to marry you, if you’ll have me, but we don’t have to do this, Katniss. I can wait.”

“If I marry you, will you give me that dance you owe me?”

 Peeta grinned, “Yeah.”

 Her nose bumped up against his, “I’ll marry you Mellark, but I’m not waiting another night to be with you,” she said before their lips met and she made good on her promise to be with him.

 He relaxed as she undid his belt loop, pushing aside the flaps of his pants, she licked her lips at the sight of his member. He was thick, she put her hand on him and she felt him twitch, her eyes flew to his face, but he looked rapturous. She gently pulled him out, he was firm but smooth in her hands, she felt his hand guide her in how to move. He moaned as she slid up and down his length, she so slick with need she was wetting his pant leg. She was very stimulated by seeing the power she held over him.

 Within her she felt empty and was finally ready, she wanted him inside. Jo and Annie had explained various scenarios where they could make love and be comfortable for him. The chair was the best solution.  She moved away slightly to assess how much space she needed to get him inside he was long and thick.

 “Katniss are you sure you want to?”

 “Help me,” answered back. He was always the consummate gentleman always seeking permission. And Katniss wanted him more.

 She throbbed in anticipation as she began to slide  down.  Feeling his tip at her entrance she wanted to ram him inside of her, but she heard him groan “Wait.”

 She watched him try to coat his dick with her juices. She swirled her hips a little to help him, and the sensation made her pant. As she sat down she felt him break her open, stretch her tight walls. They groaned in unison at the sensation of being joined.  Though when she came to the barrier she gave him a helpless look, he gripped her sides and thrust upwards and she felt him give way and slide all the way home.

 “You okay?”

 Katniss needed to adjust to him, he was huge inside of her overheated body. Experimentally she moved up and down a fraction it felt amazing. Peeta waited for her and as she began to ride him. They established a slow rhythm. They watched the other, Katniss could see how his lips thinned as he tried to keep control.

 “I'm close,” he warned before, he slid his hand to her bundle of nerves stoking her fire to burn brighter.  Pleasure shot through her, tiny sounds escaped her lips.  Their movements became faster. Peeta’s mouth found it’s way to her neck, and began to suckle her in that one spot right below her ear, and the combination of the movement, his fingers and his mouth was all too much. She screamed as she came, her walls fluttered around him coaxing him to come deeply within her.  Peeta pulled out of her and managed to spill his seed on her belly.

 She was spent, unable to move, her head on his shoulder.  “I love you,” Katniss sighed as she fell asleep, just barely hearing his reply, “I love you too.”

 They never did reach the dance that night but Katniss did spend the night with Peeta. His friend, Darius helped her slip off the base in the morning. That evening, Peeta showed up at her mother’s house with flowers and a pearl ring. It was all he could afford, but Katniss didn’t care.

With the help of Prim and Johanna they’d quickly planned a small ceremony within a week despite Peeta not shipping off to war. They just wanted to be together.

 ******

A year later, Katniss lay sleeping with her husband. It was a few hours before dawn when Peeta woke her up with kisses. He diligently got up early to prep the kitchens. Peeta earned his Chief Commissary Steward rank during their marriage. His specialty was in pastry. He was thriving and in more ways than one.

 In their marriage together she’d discovered Peeta was very limber in bed and very frisky in the morning when he was full of energy.  She loved when he woke her up to have sex. He often began with a kiss on her neck, then a nibble on her earlobe. Sometimes she’d awake to him sliding down her body to go down on her. Today he kissed her awake.

Eagerly she woke up to kiss him back, her body was slick with wanting and he easily slipped inside of her.  It was a delicious sensation of feeling connected, tethered to him in a bond that went beyond the physical realm. Peeta pinned her hands to the bed, his blue eyes did not break contact with her gray ones. His thrusts became harder and she could feel the winding, swirling and mounting of glorious anticipation of bursting into a thousand different shimmering pieces of light. He hit that spot and she could feel her orgsam approach.

 “Peeta,” she breathed into his ear, right before it happened. He whispered her name in return as he let go.

She lay within the warmth of his arms, his hands were gently stroking her back. “It’s nearly been two years since I first set eyes on you.”

Katniss didn’t want him to go into day, she didn’t want to go out to the yard either.  The war showed no signs of slowing down. “I don’t know why you waited so long to approach me at the USO?”

“You’re beautiful Katniss. I was in a wheelchair and I was a goner when I heard you sign.”

 She gave him a saucy look, “I would’ve sat on your lap?”

 Peeta chuckled, “At first I just wanted to look at you. I told myself I was going to speak to you when I was on my own two feet. It took weeks of therapy. It was my lucky day when Annie bet me I wouldn’t go after you.”

“Jo blackmailed me to say yes to the first boy who asked me to dance,” Katniss lazily stretched.

“You mean, I could’ve taken you home?”

Katniss chuckled then said “You know, we never danced at our wedding.”

“You were too busy, trying to get everyone out of the house.  As soon as they all left, you mauled me,” Peeta gave her an innocent look.

 Katniss grinned, her grey eyes sparked, “You still owe me a dance, mister.”

 “Sure thing, my Rosie.”

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #everlarkbirthdaydrabbles #everlarkbirthdaygifts #fan fic #by mega-aulover

[foreversillythings]

An Ocean Between Us Chapter 3

A big shoutout to @damndonnergirls for explaining replying to replies to me, I really appreciate it! :) 

I hope you enjoy!

An Ocean Between Us

Saturday, April 13 The Endlessness of Tomorrow

“Have you ever seen anything so blue?” Delly sighed, gazing out at the ocean. Madge shook her head, more than a little distracted. It was like there was a pebble in her shoe, small but irritating, constantly tugging at her thoughts. And that pebble was Gale.

Why hadn’t he kissed her last night? The most obvious answer would be that he hadn’t wanted to; after all, he’d had plenty of opportunity. Or maybe he was simply unsure if she’d wanted him to kiss her. She’d thought she was being obvious, but maybe not. Or it could be that he was being a gentleman, and they certainly didn’t go around kissing girls they’d only just met.

Or maybe he just didn’t like her that much.

Madge almost screamed. Boys were much too confusing. Maybe she’d have been better off waiting for her parents to find some boy to marry her off to, instead of trying to talk to one now. She had no idea what to make of her and Gale’s encounter last night, wasn’t sure at all how she was supposed to feel. One thing she did know though, was that she couldn’t stand here any longer, her uncertain thoughts likely to drive her insane.

“I’m not feeling well, I think I’ll go lie down,” she said and Delly nodded.

“Alright, feel better.”

Any other day, Madge might have thought this suspicious. Delly was certainly the type to be more concerned about something like this, the kind who would escort her back to her room and try and look after her. At least the type who’d ask more questions. Madge didn’t think about any of that though, she was just grateful to get away without having to say anything. She wasn’t sure why, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell Delly about Gale, couldn’t find the words. She hurried into the stairwell, fully intending to nap away her worries about Gale.

Well, that was the plan at least.

She should have gotten off at D-Deck. Instead, Madge stepped off the stairs at C-Deck.

She’d lost her mind.

Madge, without really thinking about it or planning it out,  was wandering towards the Third Class General Room and peeking through the halls, all in an attempt to find Gale. It was appalling really, her behavior positively scandalous, but Madge needed to talk to him, needed to know where they stood. He might think she was pathetic or desperate or…salacious, but Madge just wanted to know, once and for all. She liked him, there was no point in denying it. And though she knew well brought up girls should be patient, she apparently wasn’t. And maybe he’d be happy to see her. Maybe. Hopefully.

She reached the general room and was surprised she’d actually remembered where it was. Apparently, she’d retained more of Delly’s tour speech than she’d thought. Madge squared her shoulders. This seemed like a good place to find him, after all, she’d already noticed when she’d been up on deck that he wasn’t standing on the Poop Deck. I can do this. She stepped through the doors and scanned the room, her nerves screaming at her to flee.

And then she saw him.

He was sitting on one of the benches, laughing and smiling, so, so handsome. He looked happy, leaning close to a girl about Madge’s age. Her stomach plummeted. Oh. Oh. She shouldn’t have come.

I guess that’s my answer.

“Madge?”

He’d turned while she’d been staring and noticed her, his face masked with confusion. He was already half standing and Madge felt a stupid urge to cry. She spun and rushed off as fast as she could, cursing herself for becoming so attached to a boy she hardly knew.

“Madge!”

Her heart seized at his call but she didn’t stop running, so utterly, totally mortified. She was such a fool.

“Madge, stop! Wait!”

She felt his fingers on her arm and froze, even as her legs yearned to keep going, to run as far as she possibly could.

“What are you doing here?” he asked her back and she wanted to sob.

“Nothing,” she snapped and went to leave again. He was faster though, somehow slipping in front of her. She stared at his chest, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

“That was my cousin, Katniss.”

Madge’s eyes went wide as she jerked her head up, could see the truth of that written all over his expression. She felt her face burn.

“I know,” she said, even though she obviously hadn’t. Gale nodded.

“Of course. So, why did you come?’ he asked and Madge could say something, but then, someone much wiser than her once said “actions speak louder than words”. With that in mind, she grabbed the front of Gale’s shirt and kissed him. It was the wildest, boldest, most insane thing she’d ever done, but she felt sparkling and alive, his mouth hot as it met hers. He responded instantly, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her flush against him, his mouth opening against hers and yes, she was fairly certain that wise person was right.

Actions definitely did speak louder than words.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Madge said, pulling away from Gale.

Somehow, they’d found a bench, one slightly hidden from most people. They’d spent…well, she wasn’t really sure how long they’d been kissing. Time seemed to have stopped, nothing else even registering with Madge besides the feel of Gale, his lips on hers, his arms keeping her close. She still had her hands fisted in the material at his shoulders and she felt a little breathless.

“What?” Gale asked, leaning in towards her, his eyes still closed.

“I don’t even know your last name.”

It seemed a little ridiculous, but the thought had just occurred to her. How could she be here, kissing this boy, without even knowing his last name? Gale smiled, his forehead pressing against hers.

“It’s Hawthorne.”

Oh. Gale Hawthorne. It sounded nice.

“Undersee,” she replied and his eyes opened, perfectly, beautifully silver.

“Madge Undersee,” he repeated and her whole body seemed to erupt with flutters.

“How old are you?” she asked and a part of her was curious, while another part just wanted to shut up and kiss him again and again and again.

“18. You?”

“16,” she answered and hoped he didn’t think she was too young. He squeezed her waist.

“Same age as Katniss,” he commented and she smiled a little. She kissed him again, getting lost for a moment in the taste of him. He dragged her closer, their chests pressed together and Madge was hot all over. She pulled away again.

“Did you come with anyone else?” she asked, voice a little breathy. He nodded slowly.

“Yeah, Katniss’ mom is here and her sister Prim too. And my mum, my brothers, Rory and Vick and my sister Posy.”

Madge didn’t actually say anything, but maybe Gale could feel the question through her skin.

“My dad’s dead. Work accident.”

“Oh, Gale. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. Well, no, it’s not, but, it’s been five years.”

Madge bit her lip and wished she knew what to say. Gale forced a smile.

“And my best mate Thom, he’s here too.”

Madge recognized his attempt to change the subject.

“Did your whole street pack up and leave?” she joked and he grinned a little easier.

“Only the interesting ones.”

She snorted.

“And what about you, who’re you with?”

“My parents. And my friend Delly, and her family.”

He nodded and they were silent for a moment, every nerve in Madge’s body singing.

“My favourite colour’s blue,” he murmured, “a darkish blue.”

It was such a small, inconsequential detail and yet, Madge couldn’t help feeling like she’d just learned something precious.

“Mine’s lavender.”

“That’s purple, I know, but I’ve no idea what shade of purple,” he admitted and she laughed. She thought about kissing him again but there was something burning in her stomach, like hot coals in a fire.

“I’m afraid, of what’s going to happen to us in America. It took everything we had to get this far, if things don’t work out quickly, what are we going to do?”

“I know how you feel,” he nearly whispered, breath faint on her cheeks. “We sold everything to get these tickets, if I don’t find work fast…”

She kissed him then, her passion mixed with desperation. He matched her in both and for a moment, nothing seemed quite as frightening as it had before.

Goodbye was kisses and promises for that night.

Goodbye was Hello.

“And what did you girls do today?” her mother asked over dinner.

“Oh, I wasn’t feeling too well, so I took a nap,” Madge responded and her mother frowned.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, are you feeling any better?”

“Yes, much better,” she answered, smiling brightly. Delly grinned at her across the table and if Madge weren’t so blissful, she might think that smile was far too knowing. Instead she merely beamed at all of them, too happy to worry about anything at all.

For the first time since she’d heard the name Titanic, Madge was simply happy.

Gale was waiting for her when she wandered out onto the promenade deck, painted silver and blue by the night sky. She took a moment to admire him, traced him with her eyes and he turned, smiling sweetly when he noticed her. Madge couldn’t help but smile back as they moved towards each other, the faint tinkling of music drifting out from somewhere in the ship. Gale cocked his head to listen for a moment and then grinned; set her heart ablaze with just one look.

“Dance with me?” he asked, holding out his hand. Madge felt her cheeks heat up but nodded, stomach bubbling happily. She took his hand and he drew her close, humming along to the music. She closed her eyes and hummed too, his arm around her waist and holding her near. Their bodies touched, the stars shone overhead and Madge could feel his heartbeat thudding in time with hers. They moved slowly, less dancing and more swaying, but she felt like she was floating, Gale warm in a way that touched her all the way to her bones. She tilted her head up and he tilted his down, their lips meeting.

Madge kissed him and knew this was crazy, entirely impossible, but standing in Gale’s arms in the moonlight, she honestly believed she might be falling in love.

#gadge #fanfiction #titanic au #gale hawthorne #historical au #madge undersee #Hunger Games

[thegirlfromoverthepond]

The Road Not Taken

This fic was written for the birthday of an amazing woman, the one and only @akai-echo whose very special day is today :)

You know her as a great video artist, giffer, images maker. She is the one who makes the great banners for so many writers - and always think they are not good enough.

She’s the one who created the @loveinpanem theme, and yes, she doesn’t think it’s good enough ...

But we know the contrary, right? We all know she’s kind, and giving, brilliant and sweet ?

so Hapy Birthday, my dear dear friend !

(My deepets thanks to @loving-mellark for the awesome banner and to @xerxia31 and  @dandelion-sunset for the gigantic task that was betaing this story :) Can be found on AO3 and FFN  )

It had taken time to get used to it. The colors, so pure everywhere. White, the snow all around. Blue, the sky high above. Green, the pine trees everywhere, clad under a cloak of flakes.

Winter. When temperatures reached minus 30 celsius - because apparently the entire world didn’t use Fahrenheit or feet - and the cold welcomed her in its chilly embrace.

  Katniss had loved it there. Loved the way people respected nature and its rhythm, how in sync they were with the seasons. Loved how breathing here had felt better, healthier, purer. Lighter. Even when the night could last for twenty hours a day.

  “You okay, ulkomainen?” he had asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She could see the white plane waiting for her, the plane that would take her back to her country, to her town, to her life. WIthout him. But they had reached an agreement a few nights ago.

  “I will be,” she’d answered, relishing in the warmth of his hand near her face, for the last time. “I have to go….”

“You want me to come into the airport?” he had asked, hopeful.

  She had wanted nothing more than to indulge him and herself, to feel him next to her for a few more minutes, seconds, but she had known better.

  She had shaken her head no.

  “In another life, maybe we could have been something… but in this one…. “ she had whispered to the wind.

  “In any life I would want to be with you….”

  She had felt the tears coming up, had fought so hard not to let them fall then and there as she walked away from him. Because she couldn’t let him see them, she couldn’t allow herself to cry - she had promised herself she wouldn’t cry over men anymore. And yet.

  She had been about to walk into the small airport, but the urge had been too strong, too hard - she had turned and let her luggage fall to the ground, running to him, taking his face in her hands, letting her lips meet his for the last time - the last time. Because they had both known they wouldn’t meet again. Not in this lifetime.

  His lips had felt like despair, salted like the tears she had in her eyes, and warm, so warm, a stark contrast to the icy air around them. Their tongues had danced for the last time, savouring each other desperately, committing the moment to memory.

  She had reluctantly pulled away, gasping for air, knowing full well she was needed inside the airport.

  They had said their goodbyes the night before, over and over again. With a last peck on his lips, she had turned away, heading into the airport, heading towards her life.

  Away from there.

Away from him.

---

  “Katniss?” Prim’s voice tore her out of her reverie, bringing her back to their apartment in Panem, her mug of tea still steaming in her hand. “Where were you? You seemed so far away?”

  “Oh…” Katniss couldn’t say she had been thinking of him, again. It had been years now, three years to be exact, and true to their agreement, he hadn’t tried to contact her. And she hadn’t either. But the pain of missing him was still there, still as raw as the first day. “Thinking of that new project, you know? The park on Meadow Street?”

  “You seemed so lost in your thoughts… You sure it’s nothing more, like someone?”

  “Prim… do I have to tell you again why I have no time for men? I have enough on my plate right now!”

  “But you’re only twenty-four…” Katniss saw her sister coming towards her, nestled as she was in the bow-window she liked so much. “You need to go out, have fun - you’re almost a crazy cat lady!”

  “I don’t like cats….”

  “Yes you do - you just have to admit it….”

  “I hate cats, Prim, and you know it. Even your cat knows it.”

  “Anyways, you need to get out, and have fun!”

  “I do go out, I was with Madge and Delly on Friday,” Katniss said, sipping on her tea. Still too hot, she did prefer it lukewarm.

  “Yeah, and you were back home by nine, Katniss.” Prim sighed, shaking her head. “Well, let me put it frankly, then. When was the last time you had sex?”

  Katniss choked on her breath - the surprise of the question making her forget how to breathe.

“WHAT? Prim!”

  “Come on, Katniss, I’m twenty, I have a boyfriend! You don’t remember giving me the birds and bees talk like five years ago? I have a perfectly satisfying sex life - while yours can’t even be called a dry spell. It’s nonexistent. I’m not even sure if you ever had sex!”

  “Primrose!” Katniss was shocked beyond words. By unspoken agreement, she never talked about her sister’s sex life - it would mean she acknowledged Prim was growing up, and not the little girl she once was, a decade or more ago. “I do have a sex life, I’m just not shoving it in everybody’s face.” And she did. She used to have a sex life, in another country, something other than meaningless one night stands when her sister wasn’t home.

  “Oh, yeah, and with whom? Your dildo?”

  “Prim, that’s enough! Don’t you have things to do instead of coming at me?” Katniss could feel the familiar scowl spreading across her face, masking the memories of a time past, a part of her life now closed.

  “I’m sorry, Kat, it’s just... you’re young and beautiful, you’re smart and funny - you should be with someone… I’m worried you’ll end up alone…” Prim said, as she laid her hand on Katniss’s arm. “The one you’re waiting must be very special.”

  Without another word, Prim left the room, leaving Katniss face to face with the windows, and her memories.

  “Katniss, this is Haymitch... he’s - how do you call this… Architect? For the parks department of the town. He’s the one who designs them and works with the gardners and everything.” Jukka had brought Katniss through every department of the company she was going to intern for, from accounting to sales, from the gardeners who were taking care of the sprouts in the large greenhouses to the garden architects where she was now in.

  “You’ll work with him, and maybe bring some new ideas in! We are sure we all can learn from one another. We will have your computer tomorrow - of course IT didn’t think you’d be here on the day you start, but well, it happens all the bloody time!“ Jukka had added, before turning to the old man.

“Haymitch, will you explain what you do here?”

  Katniss had heard Haymitch’s sigh from her place near the door, as the man was bent over his desk, a catalogue opened in front of him.

  “Come in, Sweetheart. Let’s start this show.”

  “You’re American?”

  “Canadian, but not far off, right? Still not from here.”

  “Oh, but… “

  “What am I doing here?” he asked, turning to face her, a clear smirk etched on his face. “Met a girl, followed her. Ended up in here. That’s the story. What about you? What made you come to this end of the world?”

  “I needed a training period abroad.”

  “That you could have done in Canada. Why Finland?”

  “Because it has trees.”

  “Well, newsflash, Sweetheart. There are trees in Canada too. Too bad you had to travel so many kilometers to find that out.” Katniss could feel Haymitch’s eyes on her, taking her all in,  from her eyes heavy with jetlag to her layers of clothes - she had somehow forgotten the cold would stay outside the buildings.

  “Whatever you’re running from is not my business. This,” he showed her some blueprints and catalogues, “will be ours for the next few months. So let’s get to business.”

  And into business they had dug. Working with Haymitch had been fascinating. Under his grumpy appearance, he had a sharp mind and an intelligence for creating parks and greenhouses she had never seen before.

  The days had passed swiftly, until Friday evening's happy hour at the pub, where she had been dragged by coworkers. Truth was, it was the only place in the whole town where you could go out after 9 pm.

Well, except for the five star resort hotel on the hill.

  That’s where she had met him. In the tiny, crowded pub, on a Friday evening.

  He was blond, of course, and had blue eyes, like so many other men and women there, but there was a quality to his, a color that she wasn’t sure she could name. Sapphire? Baby blue? Cyan?

Brilliant. Sparkling. Warm.

  “I’m Peeta,” he had said, holding out his hand for him, speaking in perfect English like everybody else there. “And you’re the ulkomainen.”His voice was soft and calm, assured.

  “How do you know that ?” Katniss had asked, stunned.

  “It’s a small town, and I’m pretty sure I know everyone here. I would have noticed you if you lived here.”

  And there it was. The usual pick-up line. She had been disappointed at the thought that this man was like all the others. He wanted nothing more than to get into her pants, have the trophy of the foreigner to brag about to his friends later.

“Oh. So that’s your pickup line? You guys are so predictable.” To his credit, he didn’t seem to understand what she was talking about.

  “Mitä?” he was surprised by her words, she could tell.

  “I’m not going to sleep with you, okay?” She had wanted to be sure he completely understood her.

  “Oh! Oooh! No it wasn’t- what did you say? Picking line? I’m just the baker here. I know everybody. And you’ve never come into my bakery, I think. It wasn’t to sleep with you!”

  He had been a bit red by then, the flush on his cheeks having nothing to do with the drink in his hand - sparkling water it seemed, based on the designated driver wristband he was wearing.

  “I mean, luoja, no, it’s not- I should shut up.” He had looked away then, running his hand through his hair, apparently looking for any kind of escape.

  There had been something, something Katniss couldn’t name that made her want him to stay a little bit longer. Maybe the fact that he hadn’t been hitting on her, at last, or maybe his shyness, or just the way he prevented other men from coming near her by simply being there. “For a baker, you’re here late… Don’t you have to wake up like super early?”

  He had smiled, and Katniss could have sworn the world around her skipped a beat. The music, the sounds of the bar, glasses clinking, and conversations all around her stopped for a split second.

  Peeta had leaned forward, as if to whisper in her ear. “I’ll let you in on a secret, if you promise not to tell….” he had said, waiting for Katniss to agree or not.

  She had nodded, curious to know what this secret was.

  “I’m the one who makes the schedule. So I might have taken the afternoon shift tomorrow, to enjoy my brother’s birthday…”

  She hadn’t been able to help the smile that came to her lips. “That’s very clever, actually. But why aren’t you with your brother?”

  Peeta had looked over his shoulder, scanning the crowd around them. Katniss had known when he found what he was looking for, as he had pointed to a group in the back of the pub, gathered around a large table. Women on the men’s laps, bottles of alcohol displayed everywhere on the small table. Clearly, the group was enjoying the evening.

  “Not really my scene. Mikka doesn’t have to work tomorrow. I do. And I kind of prefer staying away from alcohol. It’s a path I don’t want to walk,” Peeta had added, a hint of sadness in his voice.

  “And you happened to come talk to me because I was alone?”

  “No, I came for a refill and you were alone. I wanted to introduce myself and tell you I could try to bake you some American bread if you wanted?”

  The people in that country had all been so kind to her, going to any extent to make her feel welcome, to make the distance bearable.

  “Oh, wow. That’s kind of you, but... well…” She hadn’t really known how to tell him she had never bought actual bakery bread, had always gotten the ones on sale in the store, plastic wrapped and all. “I don’t go to the bakery actually, I buy my bread in the supermarket.”

  “Oh - what? Like in K-Supermarket? But it’s not real bread…. You have to come to the bakery, ulkomainen -”

  “Katniss.”

  “What?” Peeta had seemed a bit lost, to Katniss’s amusement. Her first name was rather uncommon, but there, in a foreign land it had sounded completely ... foreign.

  “My first name. It’s Katniss. Not Ulko-whatever.”

  “Ulkomainen. It means Foreigner.”

  “Oh.” So that was who she was, a foreigner, in a strange land, for a period of time. Nothing more. No surprise there.

  “But now you’ll be Katniss,” Peeta had said as he grabbed a napkin and a pen from the counter, talking quickly to the barman on the other side, before writing something. “Here,” he had held out the napkin to Katniss. “If you want to come, that’s the address of the leipomo - the bakery, ja?”

  She had nodded, taking the napkin and looking at it. He had drawn a map, and left a number too, along with the address.

  “Ask for me, and if I’m there I’ll share a tea with you,” he had said with a smile on his face, before he had been distracted by another blond man, talking quickly in Finnish.

  Peeta had answered swiftly, and the other man had started to make his way to the exit.

  “Well, my brother is going out, so it means I must too. You remember my name or you’ll want me to write it?”

  She had remembered. So much that even now it was as good as inked on her heart, in her blood and everywhere he had touched her - which had been pretty much everywhere.

  Her tea had long gone cold, and she never had felt more alone in this too big apartment, in this too big city, where the woods were in parks, and the snow was dark from the dirt.

  She shouldn’t have thought about him. That page of her life was closed, over. They had both decided so, an eternity ago.

  Or maybe it had just been three years.

  It felt the same.

  --

  Life had continued. She had created parks, big and small, exotic and modern. She had found a relief in her work, with the long hours, the proximity of the plants, her necessary walks outside to check on the trees or the flowers.

  Until the new contract had come in. She had had to go to Canada for a few months, to develop the whole greenery of a new theme park, in the center of the Quebec province. She had been the one who had volunteered to go, needing the fresh air, the scenery she had known the country could offer her. Needing to get away from her life, from her solitude, from herself.

Maybe there she could have started over. Made friends, find someone to share her life with.

She had left on a Saturday, in a big blue plane, heading straight to Montreal. She had had the whole weekend to discover the city before turning in on the Monday, to meet with the people she had worked with by mail and telephone on the project.

  She had loved Canada at the first sight.

  It had been fresh, and quiet, peaceful and green, so green.

  She had walked, a lot. In parks, along the Saint-Laurent river, on trails rendered beautiful by the colors of the leaves - a panel of reds, yellows, and oranges of all shades combining together to create the most delicate palette, shivering in the autumn wind.

  She had talked to her sister a lot. She had even set up a Facebook account to keep track of her friends’ lives while was away.

  She had pretended not to notice they hadn’t seemed to miss her that much.

  She had met new people too. Had taken walks and a bit more with one of the park rangers, one that had been tall and as dark-haired as she was, so much he could have passed for her brother.

  They had spent a lot of time together. Nights, too.

  Until she hadn’t been able to stand having his hands on her, trying to make her feel something. It just hadn’t been right.

  So she had let him go, had taken more walks along the Saint-Laurent, watched the leaves fall on the grass. Then the snow had started falling lazily, one flake after another.

  She had stayed in a bit more then, spending her time talking with Prim or working, as the snow kept falling, and the cold created candy canes of ice falling from the roofs of the houses.

  Until one day a coworker had mentioned a spa they could go to, as the company had vouchers to use.

  Katniss had agreed to come and spend time with them, trying to forget her loneliness.

  Trying to forget the emptiness of her heart.

  So they had gone, the band of girls cheering on Katniss, joking with her about the one-piece swimsuit they had been sure wouldn’t get her a man, offering to share their own bikinis, which Katniss had declined.

They had spent time in the pool, enjoying themselves in the slides and whirlpools, swimming in the outside pools in the hopes of seeing the Northern lights, but it had been too soon, much too soon.

  Until Valerie had suggested the sauna.

  And the girls had all agreed to go.

  Even Katniss, reluctantly.

  She had kept her swimsuit on, unlike in Finland, and had welcomed the familiar dry heat on her skin, shivering from memories of another time, another place.

  Another sauna.

With him.

  It hadn’t been the first time, far from it, that she had come to his place. It had even seemed like his neighbours knew which spote she favored in the parking lot, leaving it empty for her every time she came.

  It hadn’t been the first night she spent there. Hell, he had even bought her a toothbrush that stood proudly in his bathroom, next to his.

  She had known the arrangement wouldn’t last forever. She only had two more months before leaving for the U.S. again, two more months where she could enjoy being with him.

  Peeta. He had become such a big part of her life in such a short time. He was as kind as he had seemed that first night in the bar, and had made it his mission in life to make her eat real bread, not that fake stuff she used to find in the supermarket.

  And after having tasted a few of his recipes, she had been pretty sold on never eating anything else.

  She had discovered that he actually owned the bakery, had taken over when his father had retired. That he was funny, liked walking in the woods, had played hockey for his university until his knee gave out. That he kissed her like she was a spring of water he needed after walking through the desert. And that he had a way of worshipping her body like no one else she had ever known.

  That day, though, they had been leaving his place for a long weekend at his uncle’s cabin, on the edge of a lake - he had decided to make her live the real Finnish experience of jumping into the icy cold water after the sauna.

  She had decided to completely avoid it. She wasn’t that crazy - or that ready. Visions of jumping into the hole never to reappear had plagued her mind. It had never been on her bucket list to die under thick ice in a foreign country, thank you very much.

  Her thoughts, instead, had been on much more entertaining activities they could do in the sauna.

  A sauna that wasn’t shared with anyone else.

  A sauna where they could be all alone.

  All alone.

  Katniss had shivered at the thought, not because of the cold outside - strangely she had gotten used to it - but because of the anticipation.

  She had almost jumped out of her skin when she felt his hand on her thigh, caressing her through the rough denim of her jeans, a promise of pleasures to come, all the while he had kept his eyes on the road.

Because there, you had to be careful about elk and reindeer crossing the roads.

  But she had felt his warmth, burning her skin with promises of much more.

  The cabin had been everything she could have dreamt of. Everything.

  It had been situated at the end of a road lost in a forest of pine, surrounded by the immaculate snow shining under the stars of the early and long night.

  She had seen a deck leading to the ice-covered lake, on which Peeta said his uncle would anchor his boat in the summer time. A perfect place to go fishing, he had added. Even in winter - through the same hole she was supposed to jump into.

  As soon as Katniss had exited the car, she had started shivering as a swirl of snow hit her in the face, immediately followed by the warmth of Peeta’s arm around her shoulder. He had tucked her into his side, leaving a kiss on her hair like he usually did when she was next to him, moving her towards the wooden door.

  The inside of the cabin had been bathed in a cool warmth too, thanks to Peeta’s uncle’s neighbor. The view from the large windows had been of the infinite white of the lake, shining under the moon.

  “Breathtaking,” she had heard herself whisper, as she took in the reflection of millions of stars on each flake of snow, an infinite carpet of glitter.

  “Ja,” he had answered. But when she had turned her head to look at him, she had seen that he was not looking at the view, but at her, with eyes that sparkled more than the stars above them.

  “Peeta…” They had already had that talk, the one about no strings attached, the one about being just friends with benefits. But when he had looked at her that way… she had wondered what was beneath.

  She hadn’t had time to think more, his lips meeting hers as if she was his last breath of air, as if he needed her to survive, needed to breathe in her mouth, feed on her sighs and moans, become alive with her touch. They had kissed and kissed until their clothes were gone, until their bodies had screamed for the relief they granted only to each other.

They had parted only long enough to eat, naked on the carpet in front of the windows. Watching the white snowflakes dance quietly, without making a single noise. Falling shyly on the ground, matching the movement of the flames in the hearth, red and orange, so fierce, cracking.

  Peeta had finally dragged her inside the built-in sauna, which had warmed up during their activities in the living room. They had walked in still completely naked, as it was the habit there. It had taken Katniss quite a while to be able to adapt to that, her first trip to the nearby spa had been nothing less than memorable. For the first hour of that trip - an excursion with workmates and friends -  they had all worn suits while  having fun on the slides and in the exterior pools, waiting to see the Northern Lights. Peeta had been there too - he was friends with half the company she was working for and she had passed the time ogling Peeta’s body  in his tight trunks. It  had been very good.

  When she had entered the sauna with the women though, that had been another thing altogether. That was when Katniss realized that she was expected to take her swimsuit off before entering the large room full of completely naked women. Katniss had spent a solid five minutes trying to hide the parts of her body nobody was looking at anyway, until she finally started to relax and enjoy the experience. When she noticed that, despite her embarrassment, nobody gave a damn about her being completely bare. It was the habit there, to fully enjoy the experience. . Until it was time for them to take that icy-cold shower and go back into the pool.

  And repeat the treatment.

  But then the women had dragged her into “Sauna World”.

  She had taken off her swimsuit again, before entering the even larger room.

  Only to realize that “Sauna World”  was a mixed sauna.

  Mixed as in men and women together.

Naked.

  And Peeta had been there too.

  Naked.

  Sure he had, by then, already seen her with no clothes on. But he had stood opposite her, his eyes a shade darker, a sure sign of his desire for her, and it suddenly became easier for her to be naked in front of the rest of the room.

  Because the rest of the people there hadn’t given a fuck about her body.

  But he had. And even while she spoke with Irma or Susana, even then she had felt his eyes on her - tracing the lines of her breasts where he liked to take his time worshipping each of her nipples, following the curves of her hips where he had spent hours murmuring words she han’t dared try to understand, memorizing the movements of her arm to put it on paper later. It had been hot as hell - and not because of the temperature in the room.

  Just because of how he had looked at her.

  And he’d had the same look in his uncle’s sauna, in the little cabin lost in the snowy woods.

  His eyes had been filled with desire, a shade darker than their usual color, his cheeks covered in a lovely blush because of the heat of the sauna, and his tongue so pink, had darted tantalizingly to moisten his lips.

  Katniss hadn’t hesitated. With a practiced ease, she had joined him on the bench, settling on his lap, her hands going to his hair, playing with the strands as her mouth found his and they had begun their dance.

  They had danced with their tongues, each one of them giving in and chasing.

  They had danced with their hands, caressing and fondling, as skin met skin, warmth met sweat.

  They had danced with their bodies, grinding at first until the desire was too much to not give in to, until they couldn’t stand to be apart, and finally they had joined together.

  The fire in the sauna hearth had been nothing compared to the one that filled their veins, as rivulets of sweat mingled together, as hands wandered and grasped, as voices moaned and whimpered, until they found their completion, lost in the other, lost in one another.

  Later, when they had regained a semblance of breathing, Peeta had carried Katniss effortlessly until they reached the door of the sauna, and then had let her shimmy down his chest to stand at the exit of the wooden room.

  But instead of heading for the shower, he had grabbed her hand gently, leading her to the back door, the that lead outside.

  “Peeta, no, I’m not jumping in the lake!” she had protested.

  He’d laughed before kissing her forehead.

  “No lake, I promise, Ulkomainen.”

  He had lead her outside, into the quiet cold of the night, where the snowflakes were still falling, and stopped before the cover of snow just outside.

  “If you don’t want to jump, you’ll have to roll…”

  He had shown her, lying on the cold snow, urging her to come near him. “Come quickly, or you’ll catch a cold.”

  She had contemplated refusing until she realized she was already kneeling, feeling the cold against her body - but it was nothing like she had been expecting. The warmth of the sauna subsided on her skin, making a barrier to the cold - for only a short amount of time, she had been sure. She had leaned onto the snow, crawling to Peeta, to his warmth, and he had welcomed her, holding his arm out for her to nestle in, as she got closer and closer to him, the cold of the snow not bothering her.

  They had ended up pressed so close together that there wasn’t even enough space for a snowflake to fall between them. So close, their breaths had mingled together to form a single cloud, so close in the snow she hadn’t been sure where she ended and where he began.

  He had answered her quickly, turning his head slightly, his lips grazing hers, sweetly, taking time to caress hers, as if they had all the time in the world. And in that bubble of snow and ice, in the middle of a forest of pines, somewhere out of this world, it had seemed as if time was meaningless, endless .

  They had lingered for as long as they could bear the cold on their skins, until they’d had to run into the warmth of the cabin.

  They had spent that weekend away from the world, never taking their phones out of their bags, never taking clothes out of their bags, satiating their hungers or just enjoying the beautiful scenery.

  The sauna had never felt the same without him.

  She had smiled and laughed, had drunk cosmos with her co-workers, had tried to enjoy herself.

  But something had been amiss.

  Time had passed, snow fell on the ground, piling up higher and higher in the streets. And still, the pines had stood still, green as ever,  green as the ones on the other side of the Atlantic.

  Katniss had known she needed to move on. To forget about him, to let him be just a memory, a sweet tender memory she should have been able to think about without her heart breaking, each and every  single time.

  So she had set a deadline for herself. By June 30th, she would stop lingering in the past and start something new. She would indulge in the spring once more, to tell him goodbye. She had told him so many tales of spring in Central Park, with the cherry trees blooming, their petals leaving a trail of white in the wind.

The first step had been coming back home. To her sister, her life, her family. Going out, sharing her experiences in Canada with her friends, taking her time rediscovering her city.

  --

  Spring came again. A promise, and memories.

  She had always loved the cherry blossoms. Each spring since she was a kid, she would look at them blooming, until the flowers would cave to the will of the wind, letting the petals go in an short rain of pinks and whites.

  She could remember describing them to Peeta, as they were lying together in the secret of his bed, under the protection of his quilt, in the comfort of his arms. How she had described childhood memories of her grandmother baking the cherry tart she had loved so much as a kid. How he had laughed when he told her he would bake one for her... before stopping, both of them knowing she’d be long gone by the time the cherries were ready.

  Even looking at the cherry trees hurt her now. But it had to stop. She had to be stronger.

She had to move forward with her life, not wallow in the past.

  Ten times, one hundred times, she could have taken a plane that would have led her to the other side of her life.

  Ten times, one hundred times, she had stopped herself, telling herself she shouldn’t go. That he would probably have gone on with his own life, creating the family he so wanted.

  Ten times, maybe one thousand times, her head had reasoned within her heart, repeated a mantra over and over again of all the reasons they couldn’t be together, not in this life.

  She walked the familiar path of the park, settling on her favorite bench where she had sat ten times, a hundred times, and let the petals wash away her tears - for the last time she had decided.

  She listened to the quiet burbling of the small stream just behind her, letting the music of the water soothe her aching soul, her aching heart. She refused to open her eyes, knowing the sky would only bring back the memories of his eyes. She was here to heal, not to crave.

  Once, ten times, maybe a hundred times, she took a deep breath, her eyes closed, letting the sound of the water, the feel of the wind, the smell of the flowers bathe her soul.

  She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder, light and sweet.

  “You were right, Ulkomainen. The park is beautiful in the spring.”

#Happy Birthday #akai-echo #everlark #everlark fanfiction #fanfiction

[ellanainthetardis]

Life with a baby... Not the most easy ;)

[FF] or [ao3)

36. 3 Days

The knife slashed at her chest as Clay’s face came into view and Effie woke up with a strangled scream that echoed in the empty bedroom.

She sat there, in the middle of the tangled sheets, and panted for a moment, her eyes darting from the small specks of dust dancing in the light coming through the window to the crib next to the bed. Slowly, her heart stopped racing and sensations came back. She groaned and flopped down on her back to rub her face with her hands – sitting was still a bit painful.

Once she was certain the nightmare wouldn’t turn into something more, like a panic attack or a flashback, she felt around the bed with her free hand. The sheets were cold and, given how bright it was outside, she figured it must have been late.

Anxiety immediately made the content of her stomach slosh around.

Where was April?

She tried to calm down, to breathe in and out slowly, to get those treacherous feelings under control… She knew her daughter was most likely fine, with Haymitch somewhere in the house, and that she was overreacting. She had promised him she would work on those impulses to keep April close at all cost and she had mostly – letting Peeta hold her in her presence had been torture at first but it had made the boy so happy… But she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t.

She was out of bed before she could remind herself she was being irrational.

She hadn’t left the bedroom much since the birth. She had briefly wandered downstairs the previous day, after Doctor Larcher had given her the all-clear, barely long enough to phone her family and Four.

She was still a little tired and she felt gross. There were things about the aftermath of birth that nobody told you about and now she realized why. It was somehow worse than having one’s period and the fact that she couldn’t use tampons wasn’t helping in the slightest, she had never been a fan of pads. And she felt clammy too. She had washed with a cloth at the sink but it had been all that she had felt the strength to do after delivery and she now felt an urge to take a very long shower.

But all that was secondary to finding her daughter.

She followed the quiet noises to the kitchen.

Her stomach finally settled when she caught sight of what was happening in there. The backdoor was cracked open and Snowball was lying half-in and half-out, no doubt keeping an eye on the geese wandering outside. Haymitch was flipping things in a pan, wearing his red and grey checkered sweatpants and nothing else. She took a second to admire the hard lines of his back, her eyes lingering a little on the familiar faded scars, and then fell on the baby seat on the middle of the table.

She made a beeline for April.

The baby was sleeping and she didn’t want to wake her so she simply placed her hand on the center of her chest, happy to feel it regularly rise and fall.

“I was starting to wonder if you’d slipped in a coma.” Haymitch snorted, making the round something jump in the pan.

The counter was a mess of flour and dough and she eventually guessed he was making pancakes. Enough pancakes to feed an army. She eyed the small tower piled in a plate to his left with amusement.

“Are we expecting the rest of Panem for breakfast?” she teased.

“Just the kids.” he snorted.

She stepped closer and stretched her neck for her morning kiss. It was just a peck and they shared a look afterwards before bursting out laughing. Well… She laughed, Haymitch chuckled.

He rubbed the back of  his neck, amusement still plainly visible on his face.

“When did we get so disgustingly domestic, sweetheart?” he joked.

“Does it matter?” she grinned.

Domestic or not, ridiculous or not… She was certain she could never be happier than at that moment. Well. She might. If she had felt a bit less filthy.

The moment she had thought the word her smile turned to a small wince.

She could smell herself and it was bad. Rot and decay and…

A hand cupped her cheek and she blinked hard, coming back to the present.

“You should go grab a shower, sweetheart.” he suggested, always attuned to her needs. “Get dolled up even. I’ve got it under control.” She tossed an hesitant look to April, reluctant to be parted from her even for a second but… “We’ve been fine so far, we’ll be fine for a little more. You can have your turn with her when you feel better.” He pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Besides… Now, you’ve gotta eat a hundred pancakes.”

“Certainly not.” she huffed. “I intend to get my figure back.” She smoothed his borrowed shirt over her budging stomach and let her eyes linger on the baby. “I don’t know why it is so hard… I know she is fine with you. I just…” The prospect of leaving her behind, even if it was only in another room was enough to bring tears to her eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what is wrong with me.”

“You’re her mom and it’s still new.” he shrugged. “Can’t say I’m too happy when I can’t see her either. It’ll get better.”

“Will it?” she whispered.

His mouth twitched into a smirk. “Worse comes to worse, we’ll be those annoying parents who follow their kid everywhere. Bet she’s gonna love it when she’s a teenager.”

She made a face. “Do not talk of her being a teenager. We will be ancient by then.”

“You’ll still be gorgeous.” he countered smoothly.

She snorted and fought her own smile.

“You are an idiot.” she accused with fondness. She pressed a kiss to his cheek and let out a sigh. “I will be back in a flash.”

“Take your time.” he dismissed.

She stopped by the table to drop a kiss on her daughter’s head before scurrying upstairs. She caught a glimpse of the bed on her way to the bathroom and wrinkled her nose in distaste. It only took her a couple of minutes to undress it. She would do it later, she decided, and maybe she would clean around a little too because she had been remiss in the last few weeks and…

She shook her head and forced herself to get a hold on her compulsions. She wasn’t in a cell, the bedroom was clean enough, it would be alright.

She stepped into the shower and let the warm water run on her body – and it was bliss. She gradually relaxed, forgetting to fret for a few minutes. She took her time rubbing her scented gel on her body and she took even longer working the shampoo in her hair.

She felt refreshed when she finally emerged from the shower in a cloud of steam. Once she had dried herself, she passed the towel on the mirror to get a clear reflection and she took a good hard look at herself.

She had felt so huge lately…

She didn’t look as bad as she remembered. The pressing weight on her stomach had disappeared and that was already a good point. She certainly wasn’t slim anymore but she didn’t feel ready to burst either and she figured that with a proper healthy diet and some exercising, she could get back in shape in a couple of months.

It made her feel good about herself.

She hummed as she selected an outfit for the day – something that she hadn’t indulged in in a while because inelegant stretchy pants and loose shirts had been all she could get comfortable in. She settled on a pink dress with an empire waist that mostly hid the flaws in her figures. She wanted to couple it with heels too but she wasn’t sure it was wise yet. Tomorrow, she decided and it made her smile.

She felt a lot more like herself once her hair was tied up in a fancy bun and she had applied some make-up on her face. She clasped the butterfly necklace around her neck and grinned when she felt it settle on her collarbone.

She looked less like a pregnant elephant and more like Effie Trinket.

She was sporting a bright smile on her lips when she walked back down.

Everyone in the kitchen did a double take, which made her feel very cocky. Peeta was smiling wide, Katniss looked a little relieved and Haymitch just licked his lips.

“Well, shit, sweetheart…” he breathed out, his gaze turning a little dark with lust.

For all his oaths that he always found her beautiful, she had known he was most likely partially lying. It was alright. She liked herself better when she was presentable too.

“Language, Haymitch.” she chided him. “I won’t have you talk like that when you have my baby in your arms.” She lost no time in stealing said baby from him, though. April was awake, bright blue eyes staring back at her… “Hello, my darling…” She could have gotten lost in her daughter’s eyes but she forced herself to make an effort. “And hello to you too, children.”

“You look beautiful, Effie.” Peeta offered, always the gentleman.

She smiled back at him. “I did try.”

“Well, that’s a win.” Haymitch snorted, taking his seat at the table where four plates were waiting. “Breakfast, come on.”

She pretended not to notice the chair intended for her had a nice fluffy cushion on it. It was thoughtful, certainly, but also a little embarrassing. She transferred April in her left arm, propping it on the table so it wouldn’t get tired and made sure she was comfortable before she started eating.

The conversation was easy.

The children joked and laughed, teasing Haymitch about something or other… Effie wasn’t really following, she sometimes made a remark but she was distracted by the bundle of joy in her arms. She couldn’t stop staring at her daughter, marveling at her.  

In a flash of mad imagination, she saw the rest of her life and it was a succession of quiet mornings like this one: her baby nearby, her not quite babies arguing with Haymitch about why he really should put on a shirt before they came around, Haymitch feeding the banter and stealing glances at her when they weren’t looking… The two of them sharing secret smiles to which the children were oblivious.

The old Effie Trinket, the one who had dreamed of glory and influence, would have been horrified by a fate she had always tried her hardest to avoid. She had never wanted to be only a mother or a wife to a man who would regard her as some possession. She had always wanted to be more.

Right then, she would have been happy if being a mother and a wife was the last things she got to be. In no small part because Haymitch would never behave like she was a doll on a shelf for him to play with when the fancy struck.

There would be exciting new things in her life, she was sure, but for now… For now she was content with what she had. It was more than she ever thought she would get.

A family of her own.

Healthy and happy…

She hid her smile against her daughter’s brow as she dropped a kiss on her head.

April made a small sound that held no real meaning but that made Effie smile harder. She soon became unsettled though and Effie excused herself to feed her in the living-room. It was a bit less painful but it still wasn’t comfortable, her nipples felt raw and irritated and no amount of advices or tips to help actually made a difference.

April still looked hungry when she eventually took her away from her breast. It took her a few minutes to calm her down. She was a sweet-tempered thing though – at least when Effie wasn’t a ball of nerves – she settled down quickly.

“We got a delivery.” Haymitch said, leaning against the doorframe. “Not that you could hear over the wailing… I’m telling you, sweetheart, she’s got your lungs.” She tried to force a smile but didn’t quite manage. She felt sad because she knew, Doctor Larcher’s recommendations to wait and see or to take it easy notwithstanding. Haymitch frowned. “Effie, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “We will talk about it with the doctor when he comes over later.”

His grey eyes darted to the baby and he immediately outstretched his arms in an instinctive plea to be allowed to protect and comfort. She had to remind herself nobody would be taking April away before she handed her over, hiding behind a mask of fake cheerfulness that was still almost too easy to conjure.

The baby safely cradled in his left arm, he brushed slightly trembling fingers against Effie’s cheek. She leaned in the caress but her eyes remained sad.

“You think she’s still hungry again?” he asked, uncertain.

“Call it a mother’s instinct.” she whispered. “I know.”

“Larcher said we needed to wait and see.” he hesitated. “Maybe…”

“We will see.” she dismissed. “A delivery, you said?”

He touched her shoulder before she could wander too far away.

“Sweetheart, if we have to add bottles…” He shrugged, careful not to disturb the baby. It was the most precious thing, really, to see him holding their daughter close to his bare chest. “It doesn’t mean you failed or any bullshit like that.”

She flashed him a smile but escaped his knowing gaze by taking refuge in the kitchen. Katniss and Peeta were chatting while doing the dishes, she turned her attention to the huge package in the middle of the table. The return address was her parents’ and her mood improved drastically. Her mother had promised to send some stuff over in express but nothing had arrived so far and Effie had started to think Elindra would be there well before the gifts.

She grabbed a knife from the drawer – and tried not to remember what had happened the last time she had opened a package from her mother with one of those because the knife slashed and Clay’ s face and…

“Do you need help?” Peeta asked, gently taking the knife from her clenched fingers. It took her a second to relax her fist but the boy simply waited as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “Those packages can be so tricky…”

She nodded, taking the excuse he was giving her with gratefulness.

Katniss didn’t seem to think anything of it but Haymitch, who had followed her in the room, was now studying her with rapt attention. He had picked up the cat rag doll somewhere and he was distractedly playing with it, making it dance in front of April’s face.

It was a ridiculous sight and she wasn’t really surprised when a camera flashed. Katniss had made it her mission to collect as many embarrassing pictures of Haymitch as she could – Effie believed there was a bet out there with Johanna.

The bright flash, unfortunately, did nothing for her. It briefly blinded her and… her cell was dark. Dark. Dark. Dark.

She breathed in through her nose, made a point of identifying the different smells in the kitchen… The dishwater soap, the lingering scent of pancakes and syrup in the air, the faint touch of dog fur…

“Here you go, Effie.” Peeta said. It was loud. It was loud but she couldn’t tell if it was because he was trying to get her attention or because of the hissing sound in her ears.

Her fingers were shaking but she kept smiling as she reached for the now ripped open package. She smiled when she saw what was inside though and it helped chase the memories away.

Darling little outfits, small hats and soft headbands…

She piled them up next to the box, her smile growing more genuine with every new item she took out.

“Guess you’re getting a change of clothes, shrimp.” Haymitch snorted, venturing closer.

There were a few other things in the box: a mobile with stars and unicorns, some practical items they already had but in pink this time around and a lot of glittery fuchsia pacifiers that immediately caught Haymitch’s attention.

“Fabulous.” he teased her.

She pouted. “I am not sure I want her to use a pacifier. We will have trouble training her off it.”

He handed the baby to Peeta who readily took her to go sterilize one with a shrug. “Let’s see if she likes it first.”

Her pout deepened but she kept her peace, gently tracing circles on April’s tummy. The baby was happy in Peeta’s arms, probably because she knew the boy was already wrapped around her little finger. She would be a charmer, this one.

Effie thought Haymitch was only eager for her to use the pacifier because it was pink and glittery and because it would allow him a new range of jokes about how April was her mother’s daughter. And, naturally, April took to the pink sparkling monstrosity with delight.

Haymitch smirked and Effie rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you dare.” she warned before he could comment. She scooped her daughter up and nodded at the clothes. “Help me get those up to the nursery, will you?”

Once everything was upstairs and she had April on the changing table, she faltered a little. So far, Haymitch had been the one taking care of diapers and outfits because she had been confined to her bed. Her manicured nails were no help in that matter and she struggled to change her diaper – all the while wrinkling her nose at the mess – disgusted by it all.

“I think you will be in charge of diaper changing from now on.” she declared, when Haymitch wheeled the crib back in the nursery as she had asked.

“No way, sweetheart.” He shook his head. “That’s shared duty.”

He pressed a kiss against her neck and waved at April over her shoulder.

“Do not kiss me when I smell like baby poop.” she grumbled.

“It’s still poop.” he snorted. “Adding baby before it doesn’t make much of a difference.”

She pursed her lips at him but finished dressing April in a brand new red romper with little white dots and a green rigged collar that made her look like a little strawberry. She added its matching little green hat.

“You look darling.” she declared with a bright smile.

“Please, tell me you’re not going to dress her up every day like a doll.” he scoffed. “Cause what went for a boy… We agreed on how we wanted to raise our kid. You’re not going to try and turn her into a crazy fashion person, yeah?”

She frowned at him, not really pleased with the assumption.

“I simply want her to look pretty.” she replied. “Is that wrong?”

“As long as we’re clear she doesn’t have to be proper and shit.” he warned. “Say, when she’s older she likes pants better… Or running outside… Or climbing trees…”

“She will do what she wants.” she cut him off. “Except climbing trees. That sounds very unsafe.” She waved her hand to dismiss that, keeping her other one of April’s stomach to avoid any incident – all the books agreed you should never leave a baby unattended on a changing table. “I want her to be everything she wants to be. That does not mean I am not hoping to give her some sort of fashion sense.” She gave him a small shrug. “Besides, she is little still and I like dressing her in cute outfits. Where is the harm?”

“There’s none as long as you remember she’s not a toy or an accessory.” he replied.

She shot him a glare. “I do not like what you are implying.”

She knew what he was implying though. Capitols used their children that way. They left them to nannies to be brought up and only took them out to be seen and marveled at. Capitol children, in the elite, were little more than human dolls.

Effie had never wanted her own children to be raised in that way.

His grey eyes flickered from her to April and back. He winced. “Sorry.”

“Yes, I believe you ought to be.” she huffed, carefully lifting her daughter up to place her in her crib before opening the dresser’s drawer. She needed to sort the clothes they had bought. Some could be kept but others had clearly been meant for a boy and wouldn’t do. “Honestly.”

Arms wrapped around her mid-section and his nose nuzzled her neck.

“I’m just…” he hesitated. “I’m feeling a bit… overprotective. She’s so small and…” He shrugged awkwardly. “Look… I was ready for a boy and… Girls seem more like your territory than mine.”

She rolled her eyes at his stupidity. “Have you forgotten Katniss and Johanna? Because I guarantee you are better at handling them than I am.”

“Different.” he scoffed. “They’re…”

“They look up to you and they love you just like our daughter will.” she interrupted. “It is not so different. You will do fine with a girl and I won’t make my mother’s mistakes. We will… We will learn. We will manage. Together. Isn’t that what you promised me?”

He brushed his fingers on the butterfly resting over her collarbone. “Yeah.” He dropped a kiss on her shoulder. “Yeah, we will.”

“Good.” she answered. “Now help me, would you? This house is in complete disarray.”

Truth be told, it wasn’t that bad and she knew that her cleaning impulses had more to do with how unsettled she felt that day. She managed to sort through the clothes while he fixed the mobile on the crib – without waking April up and that was a feat – but doing some actual cleaning proved to be difficult.

They tested the baby monitor at least ten times but neither of them could take more than two steps out of the nursery without freaking out. The idea that April would be by herself… It was far too much to bear.  

In the end, they leaned against the corridor’s wall, shoulder to shoulder, their arms brushing against each other.

“That’s gonna be a problem.” he remarked eventually.

“We are very deranged people.” she sighed. “She is fine. I know she is fine.” She looked at the monitor in her hand. “What is wrong with us?”

“We lost too much.” he said quietly.

Snowball wandered by, stared at them for a moment and then paddled in the nursery. Effie followed, immediately alarmed that he would try to steal something from the crib again and accidentally crush their daughter to death but, instead, the dog lied down next to it. An animal shield.

“Good boy.” she whispered and Snowball rolled on his back in answer, presenting his belly to rub. She humored him. “Very good job, my pretty baby. You stay here and keep watch.”

It probably wasn’t the healthiest idea and some people would have argued that it wasn’t safe to leave a baby with an animal but…

She knew with every fiber of her being that the puppy would never hurt their daughter. He would stay there and protect, just like he was trained to do.

The fact that Snowball was with April actually allowed them to wander a little further. They kept to the first floor though, wary of going downstairs, and they regularly peeked inside the nursery despite the baby monitor remaining silent.

She used the vacuum cleaner and mopped the floors… She gave Haymitch instructions that he did not follow at all… He was a hindrance. Instead of doing what he was told – never quite interested in chores – he distracted her with kisses and wandering hands.

“You are aware a baby kills one’s sexuality, yes?” she grinned up at him. As soon as the bed had been made, he had pushed her down on it – so she would rest, as he had put it, but there had been more kissing than resting. “Not that anything of that sort will happen any time soon.”

She wasn’t sure how long exactly the bleeding would last but she knew it was supposed to be some time. And she felt so tender down there that… No. They wouldn’t have sex in the immediate future.

“Not for us.” he smirked. “Nothing can do that. We’re too good at it.”

She burst out laughing.

Because he was stupid and she loved him for it.  

At the first cry of her daughter, Effie was off the bed and in the nursery in a flash, quickly followed by Haymitch. She scooped April up and gently rocked her until she stopped crying, making her way to the rocking-chair. Sitting still wasn’t comfortable but a glance at the clock confirmed it was feeding time again. She knew it was important to try and keep to a schedule.

Haymitch didn’t quite watch. He crouched and played with Snowball, sometimes glancing up but still somehow ill-at-ease with breastfeeding. She thought it was idiotic. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her breasts a million times. What was so disconcerting about it?

He brushed it off when she asked, mumbled something about it being weird – she didn’t try to pry further, she figured it had something to do with his own fondness for sucking on her nipples.

Once April was fed and calm once more, they were at a loss.

It was difficult to find a sense of normalcy. Neither of them was sure of what to do. Carrying on with their lives seemed unthinkable, not when they had a baby to take care of. In the end, they ended up in the living-room, watching their daughter who was happily falling back asleep in the baby seat, taking turn running errands around the house. At some point, she answered the phone and had to force herself not to sound rude or impatient when her mother kept her a lot longer than she would have liked.

Larcher usually arrived around five and she kept glancing at the clock, her anxiety levels rising with each passing minute. When the doctor finally showed up, she was so nervous her hands were shaking.

She watched him examine their daughter and she saw the small wince when he checked her weight.

“We need to switch to formula.” she said before he could.

“Not switch.” Larcher temporized. “You can still feed her, Effie. We will give her formula in addition to breastfeeding.”

He asked questions. How many times April fed day and night, at which approximate times, when it was the most difficult for Effie to produce milk… She let Haymitch answer most of those questions, forcing herself to keep a smile on her lips and resolutely ignoring the worried glances the two men were giving her.

She let Haymitch walk the doctor back to the door and crouched in front of the coffee table where the baby seat was placed. April’s blue eyes stared straight at her, so bright and trusting… Her smile softened into something genuine if a little sad. She dropped a kiss on her forehead and walked away to lean against the couch and look through the window.

The baby started crying almost as soon as she left her sight.

Haymitch tossed her a puzzled look when he came back, clearly not understanding why she was letting their daughter cry. He immediately picked her up, struggling a little with the pacifier when he tried to give it back to her… Effie closed her eyes when she heard April starting to calm down.

“Effie…” he sighed.

She felt him come closer and she let him. She let him because what was the alternative? Running away? If she did she wasn’t sure she would ever stop. Leaving April behind would devastate her but there was a tenacious little voice at the back of her head that whispered that it might be best, that their daughter didn’t need her, that…

“Why can’t I ever be enough?” she breathed out softly, almost too softly to be heard.

She had never been enough for her mother. She hadn’t been enough for the Capitol. She hadn’t been enough for Haymitch – not for a long time at least.

She had hoped that…

“Don’t think like that.” he rebuked her. “You’re more than enough.” She scoffed bitterly but he scowled and, before she could call out his lie, he forced the baby in her arms.  Making sure April was safe was instinctive, cradling her close was purely selfish… She loved feeling her against her chest. “You’re her everything.” he spat, harsh. He was always harsh with the important truths. “It’s not her fault she’s not getting enough to eat. It’s not your fault either. You want to blame someone, blame the assholes who tortured you. Fucking blame me. It’s not your fault.”

“I do not blame you.” she denied at once, searching his eyes.

He ignored her.

“Listen to me, sweetheart. You’re not gonna let this be a problem, alright?” he insisted. “We give her what she needs. No child of mine is gonna go to bed hungry, yeah?”

She wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear. He sounded a little on edge and she knew that the food issue was always a sensitive one.  

“I’m sorry…” she hesitated. She didn’t know what she was apologizing for: failing to feed April or his own insecurities being woken up by it.

“No.” He made a face. “Don’t… It’s not…” He sighed and rubbed his neck. “I meant if she needs more than you can give, it doesn’t mean you’re not enough for her, alright? ‘Cause… She loves you.”

“She is three days old.” she pointed out. “I am not sure…”

“You don’t see the way she looks at you.” he snorted. “You’re her whole world, Effie. Look…” April was looking at her, her tiny fist curling and uncurling as she sucked on the pacifier. It brought tears to her eyes because she loved her so much… “You’re enough. You’re more than fucking enough. You don’t have to ask yourself that stupid question ever again ‘cause you’re her whole fucking world.” She was so busy watching their daughter she almost startled when he wrapped his arms around her waist and propped his chin on her shoulder. “Mine too.” he mumbled awkwardly before pressing a kiss against the side of her neck.

She relaxed against his chest.

“You say the sweetest things, Haymitch, but I do wish you would mind your language.” she joked.

She expected him to make a joke of his own, to deflate the emotionally tense moment…

He kissed her temple instead, deadly serious. “It’s true.”

April made a small noise as if to agree with her father…

How could she not believe them?

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #april showers

[ellanainthetardis]

And the madnes begins! [FF] or [AO3]

25. Thirty weeks

“Lamest wedding ever.” Johanna declared as they neared the slope leading up the Village.

Snowball was running ahead, jumping into puddles of melted snow, generally having the time of his life and making Haymitch internally cringe because Effie would insist on giving him a bath and that meant he would have to do it. With the crash-course wedding the following day and her urge to make sure the house was ready for the baby, she had been in a frenzy for a week and she was tired, cranky and, frankly, a bit crazy.

Annie, Jo and little Finn had arrived a couple of days earlier and Haymitch had been very happy to see them if only because they were a nice distraction. Effie spent most of her time fussing over Finn, Annie was keen on helping her in any way she could… It gave Haymitch some room to breathe.

When he had suggested they got married, he hadn’t really understood what it would imply. Sure, the wedding party was small: Jo, Annie, the kids and her family. They weren’t going to have a huge celebration but it didn’t make it any easier to organize. There would be champagne and a cake but there would be no dancing and no big party since Effie was in no shape for that – something her mother seemed to have trouble grasping. Elindra had finally relented a few days earlier about the wedding planner and the party of the year and what not, but Effie was determined to have everything else go perfectly not to have to endure remarks and Haymitch was already very done with the whole thing.

He wanted to marry her.

He just didn’t need the pump.

Her family had been due to arrive any minute when he had dragged Johanna out of the house under the pretence of picking up the rings from the shop – if he had been forced to endure her inspecting the house one more time he would have gone completely mad.

“I mean… Trinket used to know how to party.” Jo sighed. “And you used to have the best booze. We’re not even getting a stag night or a hen night… What kind of lame stuff is this?”

“She’s almost eight months pregnant and I’m sober.” he grumbled.

Johanna rolled her eyes and buried her hands in the pockets of her jacket. They were walking very slowly and he suspected she wasn’t any more eager to get back than he was.

“That’s why you’re marrying her?” she asked. “’Cause she’s knocked up?”

“You know why I’m marrying her.” he snapped.

She shrugged. “Yeah, well… Sorry. Can’t say I ever pictured you raising a kid with a crazy chick.”

“Could say the same about you.” he pointed out.

“It’s different.” Johanna scoffed. “I’m doing it for Finnick.”

“Sure.” he humored her because she wouldn’t have taken nicely to being told it was obvious she loved the boy like her own. He tossed her an annoyed look. “You’re the worst best man ever. Wonder why I picked you.”

“’Cause I’m your last best friend alive.” she snorted bitterly.

And it kind of summed it up.

He let that sink for a while, briefly pausing when they reached the open iron gates of the Village. Snowball had his front paws on the edge of the fountain, his tail wagging left and right as he studied the bird that was hopping around on the other side.

“It wasn’t exactly planned.” he admitted a bit out of the blue because he needed to get it off his chest and he needed another victor’s opinion. Not the kids’ because the kids were his and he couldn’t burden them. But Jo, now… “But maybe it’s gonna be a good thing, yeah? ‘Cause… I’m happy, right now. It’s good, right? It’s…”

“If you’re looking for absolution, don’t ask me ‘cause I’ve got no fucking clue.” Jo asked. “You’re asking me if you’re allowed to be happy? Better than rotting alone in your house. They messed with our lives enough.”

“Seems unfair.” he muttered. “That we’re here and…”

“Yeah.” she cut him off with a shrug. “It’s damn unfair. But it’s what it is.”

“I guess.” he echoed.

They resumed walking in silence, that particular conversation buried amongst things they would never discuss again.

Snowball rushed inside the house with a joyful bark as soon as he opened the door, as usual making a beeline for Effie. Not that Haymitch would have needed that much to find her. He only had to follow the noise. Clearly, Elindra had arrived.

The living-room was full.

Katniss was awkwardly standing in a corner, looking ready to make her escape, Effie was sitting on the couch with her mother and another Capitol woman he guessed to be her sister, two boys who must have been her nephews were sitting on the armchairs with their back straight, looking very bored but determined to act like dignified gentlemen, Annie was standing next to the fireplace with Finn on her hip and Tadius was inspecting the bookshelves.

Haymitch felt a bit like he had walked in on a circus.

“Haymitch.” Tadius greeted him, sounding almost relieved.

And from what he had overheard when he had come in, he understood why. Talks of dresses, fabrics and designs weren’t exactly his favorite things either. He shook the man’s hand with a small smile, happy to see him despite his natural misgivings about Capitols.

“Haymitch, I am terribly crossed. You should have met us at the station.” Elindra declared without further ado, holding out her cheek in a manner that immediately sent him in a panic. He glanced at Effie in distress but she was biting down on her bottom lip to prevent herself from laughing and she gave him a small shrug that probably meant he should get on with it. He pecked the powdered cheek as lightly as he could but it was enough to make the woman frown. “You are shaving for the wedding naturally.”

It wasn’t a question and Haymitch chose to forget answering.

“Sorry, Mrs Trinket.” he said instead. “I had to…”

Elindra pointedly cleared her throat.

He licked his lips, annoyed that she hadn’t gotten over that fancy yet.

A glance at Effie told him it wasn’t in his best interest to make her life any more difficult than it already was.

“I had to pick up the rings.” he grated through his teeth. “Mother.”

It was nearly worth it if only to see Katniss almost choke to death and to hear Johanna’s mix of a chuckle and a gasp.

The stranger saved him from further embarrassment by standing up and outstretching a hand. He figured it was meant to be kissed but he shook it instead.

“I am Lyssa.” the woman unnecessarily clarified, sounding a bit reserved. With reasons, he supposed. The rebels had executed her husband after all. “Those are my sons, Timotheo and Bryden. Boys, greet your new uncle.”

It was uncanny how the kids simply nodded and mechanically uttered a nice to meet you. They must have been around ten but they were strangled by ties and little three pieces suits… Ridiculous.

“How charming they are.” Elindra beamed, missing the point completely, before placing her hand on Effie’s stomach. “I hope this one turns out just as well.”

He and Effie only had to exchange a look to agree that was unlikely to ever happen.

“Now, now…” Elindra declared, checking her golden watch. “Haymitch, it is time to say your goodbyes. You cannot see the bride the day before the wedding… Are you staying at Katniss and Peeta’s house tonight? How kind of them to host you… But you must be so happy for your friends, I am sure…”

That last part was addressed to Katniss. The girl didn’t have time to answer.

“We are not doing that, Mother.” Effie cut in. “Haymitch is staying here with me.”

Elindra and Lyssa both frowned.

“But you must.” her mother insisted.

“She’s pregnant.” Haymitch retorted.

“We have not spent a night apart since I moved in.” Effie added.

“But… Effie, it is bad luck!” Lyssa coaxed, grabbing her sister’s hand.

“We already got all the bad luck we could get.” Haymitch snorted. “We endure.”

The Capitol women weren’t exactly pleased with that dissent from tradition, he could tell, but they shared a look and probably decided to pick their battles because next…

“Now, darling…” Elindra cleared her throat, ignoring him to turn to her youngest daughter. “I know you said you were taking care of everything and we should not worry about a thing…”

“I know you want a simple wedding but really the thought of you marrying in less than the best…” Lyssa continued. “Do not be angry with us… We wanted to surprise you and it will be such fun… I am sure your friends will love it too…”

Effie looked wary. “What did you do?”

Haymitch hoped there wasn’t a wedding planner hiding somewhere in the vicinity.

“We might have brought a couple of dresses with us.” Elindra ventured. “A few wedding dresses for you to choose from and some spare bridesmaid dresses for your friends…”

“Five trunks.” Tadius told Haymitch behind a fake cough. “And there is another one with a suit for you, an outfit for the Odesta child as well as one for your dog.”

Johanna immediately snatched little Finn from Annie. “Hey, brainless… How about you show us around the woods? Finn gets cranky if he doesn’t get enough fresh air.”

Katniss jumped on the excuse and the two of them weren’t exactly polite in their hurry to get out of there, even if Effie tried to smooth ruffled feathers.

“Are you terribly mad?” Lyssa sighed.

“Mad?” Effie repeated, her eyes shiny. She hugged her sister tight. “My dress is terrible. I could not find one that did not make me look like an air balloon…”

“Never fear!” Elindra beamed. “We brought only the best. We will have such fun trying them on… They might need a few alterations though. I was confident we could find a seamstress in your District…”

“I can do it.” Effie answered.

“And I can help.” Annie piped in with a small dreamy smile. “But I don’t want to intrude… I can probably catch up with Johanna and Katniss if…”

Amongst the loud assurances that Annie wouldn’t be intruding at all, Haymitch started inching back toward the door, one step at a time. It was too late for the puppy who, tired of being ignored by Effie, had wandered over to the two boys. The youngest one – Bryden, if he remembered correctly – clearly was having trouble resisting the urge to pet him. He kept tossing covert glances at his mother and grandmother… His brother wasn’t faring any better, shuffling on his seat, eyeing the puppy with open interest…

Suddenly, they looked less like Capitol drones and more like kids who were trying really hard to behave.

“There’s a playground in town.” he told Tadius. “We could take the boys.”

Escape, he meant.

The offer seemed to tempt the man greatly but his eyes were wild, a bit scared maybe.

“By ourselves?” Tadius winced. “Their nanny is at the inn. Perhaps we should make a detour.”

He glanced back at the kids who really didn’t look that frightening.

“I think we can deal.” he snorted. “Hey, sweetheart…” Rudely interrupted in the middle of her speech of gratefulness, Effie pursed her lips and tossed him a mild glare. He didn’t give her time to start ranting about manners. “I’m going to show your dad and your nephews around town, alright? This way you can have some girl time.”

Effie’s annoyance disappeared but he could tell she wasn’t quite fooled by the apparently selfless offer. “It is very nice of you, thank you.”

The boys seemed very happy about that plan. The youngest one looked up at him with big pleading blue eyes. “Can we take the dog with us, please?”

“Sure.” he smirked. He whistled once and the puppy immediately ran to his feet, which warranted impressed gasps from the children.

“Only the two of you?” Lyssa asked, sounding unsure. Her gaze darting from him to her father with worry. “Are you certain, Father? You have never been alone with the children without Nanny before, have you?”

His pride in jeopardy now that it had been implied he couldn’t take care of two ten years old by himself, Tadius bristled. “I do not plan on misplacing your children, Lyssandra.”

“She does have a point though, dear.” Elindra insisted, clearly mystified. “I do not remember you ever being left alone with children…”

“Haymitch took care of Finn plenty of times.” Annie cut him with a sweet smile he didn’t deserve.

“Can we go, Mother?” Bryden asked, eyeing Snowball with longing. “We will behave for Uncle Haymitch and Grandfather, I promise. Won’t we, Timotheo?”

How old was that kid to talk that way? Did they have proper speech lessons in the Capitol? He was ready to bet on that being a thing.

The other boy nodded very seriously, as if he was thirty instead of ten. “I will help Grandfather and Uncle Haymitch supervise Bryden, Mother.”

Lyssa didn’t really look happy about it but it seemed she couldn’t say no to her children because next thing Haymitch knew, everyone was getting their coat and they were being escorted to the door by a frantic Capitol woman.

“Please, do not hesitate to fetch Nanny at the inn if they become too much trouble.” Lyssa warned, obviously scared they would lose the children or let them get hurt.

“Tell you what, sweetheart…” he smirked, somehow understanding where her worry was coming from – the shrimp wasn’t born yet and he was already imagining a thousand scenarios where things turned badly. “I take care of your kids and you make sure Effie doesn’t overdo it, yeah? Don’t let her fool you, okay? Watch out for the signs ‘cause she says she’s fine but the next thing you know, she’s feeling dizzy. Tomorrow’s going to be stressful enough…”

“I do know how to take care of my sister.” Lyssa cut him off, almost with a vexed huff. “I have been doing it since she was born.” A poor job, she had done, but Haymitch chose to keep his peace on that. It was between Lyssa and Effie, after all. She sighed. “I will make sure she is reasonable. Do try not to lose or break my children.”

The door closed and the four of them were left alone in the front yard. At first, nobody moved. Tadius was watching the boys with obvious wariness, the boys were tossing covert glances at them, Haymitch was trying not to feel too much out of place… Then, as if their strings had been cut, the kids abandoned the perfect gentlemen act and crouched next to the puppy who seemed delighted with the attention.

Bryden outstretched a hand and then seemed to remember himself and looked at him, eyes shining with excitement. “May I pet him?”

Haymitch snorted at the formality. “You can pet him, you can play with him… Just don’t tug on his fur and don’t be too rough.”

Finn was finding it very funny to try to ride the puppy like a pony.

“How do you play with him?” Timotheo asked, tentatively touching the dog’s nose.

Snowball immediately nuzzled his hand with a joyful bark. The puppy liked kids. He was always eager to play with the ones in the neighborhood. Bryden giggled when the puppy’s head bumped in his chest, the boy lost his balance and fell backward in the thin coat of snow, which seemed to delight him.

“Do not get dirty!” Tadius panicked. “Your mother and your grandmother won’t like that at all.” He shot a warning glance at Haymitch. “We should not let them get dirty.”

The boys both looked disappointed and Haymitch rolled his eyes. “You can blame it on me. Okay… How to play with a puppy, lesson one.”

He taught them how to play tug and fetch in front of a bemused Tadius who didn’t seem willing to get involved in the game. Haymitch didn’t mind running after the kids and the dog. He found it sad that the kids were forced to be so serious all the time because it was clear that, when they were allowed to go wild, they were just as boisterous as any other child he had met.

Eventually, Tadius reminded them they were supposed to visit the District and not spend their time in the yard and they all started walking in the direction of the Village’s gates. Haymitch watched the kids run along the puppy a few feet in front of them, feeling strangely impatient for a time when it would be his own boy.

“Do you have a lot of experience with children?” Tadius asked after a few seconds, either impressed or puzzled.

“More than I’d like.” he replied, deliberately vague.

He didn’t think Timotheo was much older than twelve, even if it was difficult to pinpoint an exact age for the two boys, and he had had his share of dealing with twelve years old. Never believing that the children had a chance had never meant he hadn’t somehow gotten involved in the mentoring at some point. Effie had borne most of it. But… There had been years and children more gifted than others at making him care no matter how much he had wanted to pretend he hadn’t.

“Have you started looking into nannies or governesses?” the Capitol man asked.

He made a face. “We’re not getting one.”

“I see.” Tadius cleared his throat. “We would be willing to help if…”

“It’s not a money question, we just don’t want a nanny.” he interrupted him. He tried not to be too cutting. “We don’t need money.”

“Are you certain?” the man insisted. “Because I know for a fact Effie does not have any. I had to settle a few of her debts when she left the city. Not that she knew it was me, of course. Actually, Elindra does not know either and I would appreciate if…”

“No problem.” he promised easily enough. He waited for a second before speaking again. “And we really don’t need money.” It would have angered him if anyone else had tried to meddle in his private affairs but, truth be told, he felt Tadius had a right to ask the question. He was about to marry the man’s daughter. Any father worthy of the title would have wanted to make sure the groom could support their daughter and eventual family. It was awkward, yes, but Haymitch didn’t consider it out of the normal range of things to ask a future son-in-law. “Life in Twelve isn’t expensive and victors still get their monthly stipends… I’ve saved almost everything I got since my Games anyway… Never had real need for it. So, sure, the baby made a dent in the budget but we’re really not tight.”

“Good to hear.” Tadius approved with a nod. “Did you invest part of the money? You should invest. I can help you with that if you wish.” Before he could politely decline, the Capitol moved on to another topic. “Elindra and I will open a trust fund for your son as soon as he is born.” Haymitch opened his mouth but Tadius waved his hand. “Do not protest. We did it for all our grandchildren. They won’t come into the money until they are eighteen, at which point they will be able to use it however they see fit. I, for one, hope it will be for university although…” He sighed, his eyes on the boys that had obediently stopped at the Village’s gates to wait for them. “Timotheo and Bryden will both inherit a considerable wealth from their father at their coming of age and neither of them seemed to be eager to pursue a higher education. I had hoped one of my grandsons would take up the family business after I am gone but I fear they will follow in their father’s footsteps and become men of leisure.”

Haymitch studied the boys who looked in awe of the dog and frowned. “They’re still young.”

“They took very much after their parents.” Tadius shrugged. “Lyssandra never had any ambition and Rufus never had the means to reach his.” Regret laced his voice next. “I was too harsh with Effie in her youth. I underestimated her potential. I do not think she would have ever managed to be an architect like she wanted to… But she could have done more than capitalize on her looks.”

“She likes to play dumb.” he commented cautiously, waving the boys on as they caught up with them. Snowball darted forward and the kids ran after him, laughing all the while, sounding so free that Haymitch understood that they weren’t often allowed to go wild like that.

“Yes, I understood that only too late.” Effie’s father agreed with a small sad smile. “I never knew my daughters as much as I would have liked. They were their mother’s dolls and all those beauty pageants and hot gossips… I am a businessman. I do not understand that world.”

“Can’t say I do either.” he snorted. “But Effie’s much more than that.”

He was a bit defensive and it seemed to amuse Tadius.

“Lyssa was the easiest one. Always eager to please… Always happy…” the Capitol man shook his head. “Effie was more difficult. Elindra is used to being obeyed in every little thing, Effie always found ways to work around that. When she was thirteen… Why, I used to marvel at the way she could talk back without actually rising her voice or being rude – when she was directing her ire at Elindra at least.”

“Sounds like my girl.” he smirked, stupidly proud of her for rebelling against her gilded cage even then.

“She used to have a terrible crush on you, you realize.” Tadius mocked. “You were all she could talk about from the Quell to your Victory Tour. We lost Elindra’s father some time in between… They were so close… It pained her very badly… The first time I saw her smile after his passing was when she got Golden Tickets for the Tour. Elindra wasn’t keen but Effie insisted on going to every last event. Lyssa and I took turn escorting her. I cannot say I was a fan of it… All those young girls screaming at you…”  

“Yeah.” He made a face and buried his hands in his pockets. It wasn’t fond recollections for him, even if it amused him a little to know Effie had been amongst the crowd. “Can’t say I enjoyed it much myself.”

“I suppose not.” Effie’s father approved. “Still… The last event was a signing… I do not know what you said to her that day but she came home and declared she was utterly done with you.”

It was a part of the story he didn’t know about and he didn’t remember her at all. Why would he? She had only been a teenager amongst thousands. However he could guess he hadn’t been kind. It was only when Chaff had impressed upon him the necessity of playing nice with Capitols to get sponsors and help the tributes that he had started to behave a little less harshly.

“I don’t mind the trust fund.” he said, switching topics because he knew Effie would hate being discussed behind her back. “If it’s for the kid’s future, it’s fine with me.”

“I will settle it in his name as soon as he’s born.” Tadius offered, placidly accepting that new line of conversation. “Have you agreed on a name yet?”

“No.” Haymitch snorted. “We’ve got a list of maybes but… None of them feels right.”

The playground appeared in the distance and they walked in silence for a while, watching the boys rushing toward it with the puppy in tow.

“May I suggest Aidan?” the Capitol said, a bit awkward. “It was my father’s name. If we had been blessed with a son… It has always been a dream of mine to see another Aidan Trinket running my company.”

“Abernathy.” Haymitch corrected automatically. “And we’re not raising him up to fill anyone’s shoes. He’ll do whatever he wants. No family obligation.”

“Of course.” Tadius chuckled. “I didn’t mean to imply any different.”

There wasn’t really any time to give him an answer about names… It turned out taking two boys to the local playground was much more difficult than entertaining them in the front yard. Capitols and Districts didn’t mix well. It didn’t take long for Effie’s nephews to rub on some of the District children the wrong way and for an argument to start. It involved crying children, sulking spoiled brats and screaming mothers. Tadius was absolutely no help.

When they eventually made their way back home, Haymitch was nursing a bad headache and wasn’t as eager for the shrimp to come out. As long as he remained in Effie’s uterus, there would be no tantrums and no screwing up.

Despite the not so awesome end to the outing, the boys seemed to have taken a real liking to him and didn’t act as stiff around Tadius as they used to – something which seemed to make the Capitol man marvel.

Effie was having tea with Lyssandra and Elindra and the three of them all looked impressed enough by the fact they had brought back both children in one piece. It made him feel slightly better. At least until he and Snowball were forced to try on the suits they had brought along for the wedding.

He grumbled and raged and complained and even whined but Elindra wouldn’t be deterred and Effie didn’t save him from his fate. She was too busy fussing over the puppy with her sister – because clearly it was more important to make sure the bowtie fitted Snowball perfectly rather than saving him from her mother’s claws.

Getting married, he soon decided, was exhausting and it was a good thing they would only do it once.

By the time they finally went to bed that night, he was ready to give up on the whole thing.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked, spooning her. She was still having trouble finding a comfortable position at night and she had taken to propping her stomach on pillows. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed a kiss on her shoulder. “You were supposed to take it easy.”

She sighed and burrowed a little more against his chest. “Well, if I had had more time to organize the wedding…”

“Wanna get out of it?” he challenged.

“Don’t you dare.” she hissed. “Now I have a perfect dress.”

She sounded very pleased about that.  

He hid his smirk in her nape, simply happy that she was happy.

“Your dad had some things to say…” he told her because he didn’t keep things from her if he didn’t have to. He summed up the conversation about the trust fund. She didn’t look surprised though, she was probably aware of the same dispositions having been made for her nephews.

“It will be nice for him.” she hummed, rubbing her stomach. “They did the same thing for Lyssa and I. We had both already started working well before our coming of age but the money was a nice plus.”

Haymitch let out a non committing noise. He didn’t like the idea of growing up with a silver spoon in the mouth but he also couldn’t deny knowing their child would be safe from poverty was a relief. He had grown up in a world without certainty and he didn’t want that for his son.

“He suggested a name.” he added, as an afterthought.

“Yes?” she frowned. “Which one? My mother suggested Eustorgio and you vetoed it.”

“Aidan.” he said.

“Like my grandfather?” she asked, drawing circles on her baby bump. “I never knew him, you know. He died when Lyssa was two or three…”

“I like the name.” he admitted. It wasn’t outrageous for a Capitol name and it was strong. It was a good sensible name. He could see himself calling his son Aidan.

“It sounds… close to Hayden.” she pointed out carefully.

Close but not quite.

It hadn’t escaped him.

It was close enough that it could be consider a wink of sort but it was far enough that the name wouldn’t carry any memory.

“I’m good with it.” he offered.

“Aidan…” she repeated, testing it out. “Aidan… Yes… Yes, it could work. Aidan…” She groaned and he figured that meant she had been kicked. She let out a chuckle, talking to her stomach. “Well. If you approve…”  

“Aidan.” he smiled, covering her hand with his.

“Aidan.” she grinned, stretching her neck to kiss him over her shoulder.

It seemed the shrimp had a name after all.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #april showers